Instinct
by aerielynn
Summary: Set during Season 7. Harm and Mac are sent on a murder investigation to the shores of Cape May. During one of the rockiest points in their friendship, can they trust each other's instincts enough to stay alive?  H/M shipperness sprinkled throughout
1. Chapter 1

NOTE: This takes place during Season 7, right around the time of "Capitol Crime" and Mac's confession of love for Harm to Sturgis and "JAG-a-thon." All street names are actual names of Cape May streets - all businesses are modeled after real ones in the area, but names have been changed. Please note that if you are familiar with Cape May at all, I've only taken one or two very minor liberties with the architectural and geographical features of the town. Otherwise, I've remained very true and accurate to it from my experiences, since I've been down there with my hubby a few times. (And we love it there!) Also, I've used standard 24-hour time instead of Zulu, because Zulu confuses the heck out of me! :)

This is my first JAG fan fic, so please review and let me know what you think!

Rated Teen/PG-13 for language, some violence and mildly suggestive content.

Disclaimer: I love the show and have been a fan ever since the beginning. And while I'd love to own everything about it, I don't. So I just play pretend on here. :)

**INSTINCT  
by Aerielynn**

April 22, 2002

1245 hours  
Beach Avenue

Cape May, NJ

"I can't get no ... satis-FAC-tion ... yeah, yeah, yeah ... uh-huh ..."

Rick Farland's music blasted loud his headphones as he sang along. His beachcomber's sifting claw trailed behind, raking together all of the broken pieces of shells, driftwood and garbage that littered the shoreline. His job was simple. Rake it up and throw it out. Not a bad gig for $25 an hour. In the off-season, hardly anyone came onto the beach. But, in just a few short weeks, thousands of people would fill the shore in baking hot temperatures. For now, Rick enjoyed the peaceful version of the beach, even though the air had a cold nip to it. However, his job was often so mundane that he would find himself daydreaming so deeply and he would nearly crash into a jetty. The loud rock-n-roll music he played on his CD player helped to counteract that and to keep him alert and focused ... most of the time.

After circling around, Rick steered his beachcomber the opposite way from which he had just come. He preferred to work in small sections, and then move on. As he approached the jetty border on his first pass, he noticed he was coming up to a large, black plastic garbage bag. _Figures, _he thought. Rick hated how people dumped whatever they felt like on the beach. He couldn't rake up such a large bag without possibly jamming the comber, so he had to carry it up the shore a bit to the pile he had created. Big garbage bags often stunk and were bogged down with water. _Great. Just great._

Rick parked the comber, climbed down and headed toward the bag. "Damn stupid lazy people," he muttered, bending down to pick up the garbage. He grabbed the tied top and attempted to lift it. "What the hell-" Rick struggled to lift the bag. "Damn it! This crap is heavy! Lazy stupid-" Rick decided to drag the bag to the pile, and though only a short distance away, he was out of breath by the time he reached the pile. "Jeez. What the hell could be in here that's so damn heavy ...?"

The stench filled that filled Rick's nostrils nearly made him pass out. "Holy shit!" Rick immediately dropped the bag and ran to his comber to call the police. As he dropped the bag, the top part of the bag blew open to reveal a dead uniformed military officer inside.

April 23, 2002

1125 hours  
JAG HQ

Falls Church, VA

"Now, I didn't say I wouldn't be willing to settle with you ..."

"Oh no, you didn't, but you most certainly aren't willing to be reasonable either!"

"Be reasonable? You have no real evidence against my client! I mean, come on - attempted manslaughter? Where do you-"

"Look, I've got three eye witnesses that saw your client with the broken beer bottle, screaming at Petty Officer Forrest about flirting with his girlfriend. So, an enraged Lieutenant Yarder attacks him. Open and shut."

"Your testimonies are from three drunk civilians whose backgrounds leave something to be desired. The only thing that is open and shut is that you're wrong."

Colonel Sarah MacKenzie stared deep into Commander Harmon Rabb Jr.'s clear, blue eyes.

"I'm not wrong, Harm. I'm just sorry that you're so damn stubborn that you can't even admit that you might not have a case."

Harm began his own intensive search deep into Mac's soft brown eyes, his lips forming the first syllables of his rebuttal, until he stopped himself. Within the span of seconds, he regrouped and changed tactics.

"Stubborn, huh? I guess that's a flaw that you have to have yourself in order to detect it in others."

Mac's lips pursed. She knew what he was doing. He was egging her on, trying to catch her off-guard with his usual deflect-and-redirect counter attack. She'd seen it coming; she was prepared more than he gave her credit for.

Harm had followed her to her office door. She glanced down at the floor before delivering her verbal K.O.

"At least my stubborn nature knows its limits. Yours, on the other hand, is closely tied to your ego." Mac twisted her office door open and walked inside, Harm moving to occupy the doorway. "And your ego always stops you from making sensible decisions."

Caught off guard, Harm's lips parted, but nothing came out. She had done it again - both pointed out his flaws professionally, and somehow wounded him on a deeper level. Personally, emotionally. In a way only she could. However, it wasn't a fatal wound. Or so he would choose to believe.

"And what would a sensible decision be, Mac?" Harm approached Mac as she sat behind her desk, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his eyes searching hers. For a moment, Mac felt as if maybe there was subtext to his question; the way he stared at her, how his voice softened, and how she had the distinct feeling that she, somehow, struck a nerve with her comment.

"Sensible," Mac said slowly, never breaking eye contact with the towering Naval officer, "would be to take my offer."

"What are you offering me?"

A moment of silence hung in the air between them as thick as a brick wall. Both Harm and Mac searched each other's eyes with obvious intensity, wondering if the other meant what they said or heard what they thought they did. They hadn't had a decent conversation in forever, and quite frankly, neither was sure of where the other stood. There was the Jag-a-thon, after which they had at least agreed to be friendly with each other. However, for Harm, it simply wasn't enough. He wasn't satisfied with speaking to Mac on merely a friendly basis. She was his best friend - he expected more, he wanted more. Mac, too, desired to talk to him and just be around him without tension or confusion. But the two aspects seemed to follow every conversation they had, airing itself in underlying messages of unresolved tension over their personal feelings for each other.

The silence would have been easily cut with a knife, and was as Petty Officer Tiner knocked and entered Mac's office. "Excuse me, Ma'am, Sir - Admiral Chegwidden wants to see you, ASAP."

"Thank you, Tiner, we'll be right there," replied Mac, and Tiner nodded and exited back toward the Admiral's office. When she glanced back at Harm, she realized his gaze hadn't left her. Rather, it had softened to an observational one - a gaze that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. In her mind, she was transported to her engagement party at the Admiral's house, and their conversation on his porch.

_::flashback::  
"What do you see when you look at me like that?"_

_"...I see a desirable woman."_

"We should go." Mac stood as she spoke softly, trying to shake the memory off. Harm nodded after a moment, and stepped aside as Mac walk around her desk. As she passed, her right shoulder brushed his. They both paused, still searching each other's eyes for whatever they could discover. Harm's instincts told him there was something behind her eyes that she was failing to get out in the open. He was close enough to catch the light peony notes of her perfume; he silently wondered what she'd do if he leaned down to place a kiss on her full, rose-colored lips. However, sticking to what he knew best, which was the typical gentleman role, Harm ignored his instincts and stepped back as Mac slowly passed him, who was unsure of what to think at all.

"Enter."

Harm and Mac entered the Admiral's office, setting aside their close encounter for the time being, and waited for the Admiral to deliver whatever news he had for the day.

Admiral Chegwidden gestured to his two guest chairs. "Have a seat." Without waiting for them to get settled, he continued. "Yesterday, the body of a Coast Guard Commander, who was thought to be AWOL, was discovered by a beachcomber on the eastern shore in Cape May, New Jersey. The Commander's name is Peter Tanner. Police said that the man operating the comber, a Rick Farland, told them he was making his usual rounds on the shore when he discovered a large garbage bag, which had the Commander's body inside. Local police IDed the body by the dog tags they found on him and his fingerprints, but they haven't recovered anything but his body - no other fingerprints, no witnesses, just a dead officer in a plastic bag. He was found on Beach Avenue, which is not too far from the Cape May Coast Guard base."

"How long had he been dead, sir?" Mac inquired.

"The police are estimating a couple days. The Commander was off-duty for the day. After he didn't return, his CO thought he went AWOL."

"Was the Commander a disliked member of the crew?" Harm asked.

"Commander Tanner was actually well-liked by the crew and by his CO as well." Admiral Chegwidden frowned. "I'm sending you both to Cape May on a JAGman investigation. See what you can come up with. Since there's little to work with, you will want to stay in the area until the matter is resolved. Sturgis and Roberts will take your case loads while you are gone."

"Sir," Mac said, "we both have the Yarder case, and Commander Rabb and I-"

"-were just about to reach a settlement." Harm glanced at Mac as he interjected her statement to the Admiral, who eyed them both knowingly.

"Well, good," said Admiral Chegwidden. "Since that was such an open and shut case, I am glad you haven't decided to drag it out into court marshal, Commander." The Admiral leaned back in his leather office chair, his arms folded over his chest.

Mac glanced at Harm, surprised by his sudden change of heart. Harm smiled through his nerves. "Well, sir, I thought it wise to take up the Colonel on her offer, all things considered. A month of confinement should cool down Commander Yarder."

"Two," Mac corrected. "That was my deal."

Harm laughed nervously. "Two." He gave a forced smile to Chegwidden.

Mac smiled too, only hers was in victory. Somehow, she won. She didn't know why Harm changed his mind so quickly about settlement, though it was the sensible thing to do, but it wasn't like Harm to come to a settlement so quickly. He always wanted to fight, except for now. But why?

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Mac asked as she and Harm exited the Admiral's office.

"No reason. A judgment call, really." Harm wasn't giving her any more than he needed to.

"Come on, Harm - you were fighting me tooth and nail before. Why settle now?"

"Well, I guess I didn't want my ego to get the best of me."

Mac stopped midway to her office. "Are you actually saying what I think you said?"

Harm chuckled tensely again. "Don't get too excited, Mac. I'm not saying you're right all the time ... just maybe somewhat now."

"Maybe somewhat, huh?" Mac smiled as she teased him. "Well maybe I'll be _maybe somewhat_ right about this case, too."

"I said _maybe."_

"Uh-huh."

Mac slipped into her office, and Harm shook his head, heading toward his. Lieutenant Loren Singer stopped him midway. "So scuttlebutt says you and the Colonel are going to Cape May for a murder investigation." Her eyes peered through him with ulterior motives written all over them.

"Well, news travels fast. Yes, we are, Lieutenant." Harm tried to get away from her, but she stuck to him like a leech.

"You know, I could be of service to you more so than the Colonel, and I'm sure that Admiral-"

"Lieutenant, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but it will be the Colonel and I on the investigation." Harm's tone was to-the-point, but somewhat soft, as if to spare her from his true feeling of oppression whenever she was around.

"That's too bad," Singer remarked, attempting to stir up trouble. "I know the Colonel will miss her dinner dates while she's gone."

Harm tried hard not to react, but couldn't help himself. "Dinner dates?"

"Oh yes," Singer said, the concern in her voice an obvious mask to her true feelings. "I've taken a couple calls from a James Kennedy, a guy from downtown ... and the Colonel almost always shuts her door when she talks to him. Guess she wants some privacy, wouldn't you say, Commander?" Her smile was wider than the Cheshire cat, and just as devious.

Harm's face fell and he actually felt his heart drop. In his mind, he flashed back to a memory between him and Mac.

_::flashback::_

_"How long should I wait?"_

_"As long as it takes."_

As Singer strode away, Harm muttered as he glanced to Mac's office, "Guess you couldn't wait after all."

"Wait for what?"

Harm whipped around and found himself face to face with Sturgis. "What? Oh ... nothing."

"Were you talking to yourself then, Harm?" Sturgis examined Harm, and realizing the emotion his friend was feeling, he attempted to cheer him up. "So, I hear that you and Mac will be going to Cape May. Nice little town. Quaint, really."

"I've never been," Harm replied, distracted mentally.

"Mostly Victorian construction architecture, with rather ... liberal color schemes." Sturgis smiled. "Nice beaches, family friendly, a national historical landmark ... the 'Poster Child' of New Jersey beaches, I imagine."

"Well, it doesn't sound too bad." A distracted Harm tried to convince himself that Mac's closed door wasn't for privacy for a phone conversation, but couldn't come up with any other reasonable excuses.

"It is nice," Sturgis continued. "An old girlfriend of mine went up for a long weekend once. It was a great time ... until, well, I found out she cheated on me."

"Ouch. I'm sorry." Harm turned to his friend. "Any idea why Mac's door is shut?"

Not knowing it was the wrong thing to say, Sturgis replied, "On the phone, maybe?" Harm winced. Seeing his reaction, Sturgis continued, "Or, maybe she's cold ... the air in here has been chilly lately."

"Yeah, it has," Harm said, recognizing the irony of the statement as he turned back to look at Mac's door. As he watched, he could see Mac with her office phone to her ear, pacing slightly. A smile spread across her face and she replied to something pleasant she heard on the other end. Unbeknownst to her, Harm's world began to crumble a little more, as it had been since that fateful night when he had to turn Mac away because Renee was there. He had wanted so badly to talk to her. He wanted her to come to him. He wanted her. He-

"Commander!" An exhausted but enthusiastic Lieutenant J.G. Harriet Sims hurried toward him. "Sir? Sir?"

Harm shook himself out of the deep thoughts-more like nightmares-that he was consumed by as he watched Mac on the phone in her office. He flashed a smile to Harriet, who soon was accompanied by her husband, Lieutenant Bud Roberts. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, I wanted to let you know that I've made your arrangements for your trip to Cape May," Harriet said, handing him a folder with logistical paperwork inside. "Your lodging is booked, and this is a folder of all the paperwork you'll need. Maps, addresses, things like that. Sir, there's just one thing-"

"Great," Harm said, taking the folder from her, distracted as he watched Mac hang up the phone in her office. "Thanks Harriet."

"Sir, there's something about the place you're staying that you should know-"

"You're a big help, Harriet," Harm continued, obviously not paying full attention to what Harriet was trying to tell him. His eyes were fixed on Mac as she opened her office door, and was walking out to join them. Harriet's face read of her obvious frustration as she looked to her husband, who then tried to get the Commander's attention.

"Sir," Bud began, "I think you should know about the place you're staying-"

"Bud, it's OK. A motel is fine. We've stayed in worse places before," Harm said quickly, flashing a smile to Mac, who now joined them, briefcase in hand. She had secured her office and was ready to leave HQ. Bud and Harriet sighed, shaking their heads. Harm and Mac would have to deal with it on their own, now.

"Hi Sailor," Mac said with a smile. "What's wrong?"

"Me?" Harm said, pretending he hadn't been caught staring at Mac's office for the last five minutes. "Nothing!"

"Well, you kept looking at me - I thought maybe there was something I should know about our trip."

"There is."

"There is."

"There isn't."

All three voices chimed in at once, and Mac's eyebrows rose.

"We should get going, Mac. It will take four hours by car, you know. Thanks guys." Harm said quickly, steering Mac away from Bud and Harriet and toward his office.

"Well, actually, if we take the Lewes ferry, it will take three hours and forty-nine minutes," Mac stated. "But, by I-95, it will take four hours and three minutes, or four hours and forty minutes with traffic."

Harm secured his office and closed the door behind him, shaking his head. "How do you do that?" he asked as they both stepped inside the elevator. The doors closed quickly behind them, and Harm pressed the first floor button.

Mac shrugged. "I just do." She smiled at him. "I just need to stop by my place and get my bag."

Harm nodded. "Me too."

"Alright, pick me up at twelve-hundred."

"Will do."

A moment of silence hung in the air. "Harm?"

"Yeah?"

"What did Harriet want to tell us about the place we're staying?"

Harm laughed nervously. "Well, she didn't say."

"Is that because you were too busy watching me in my office that you didn't pay attention?"

Harm's eyes widened. "I-I was just making sure you were ready."

Mac's lips curled into an amused grin. "Uh-huh."

Harm took a courageous step. "So who were you on the phone with?"

"I believe that's classified!" Mac said, surprised he would ask.

"Well, seemed to me that you were happy to speak to whoever it was."

"I was, in a way."

"A friend?"

"An acquaintance."

"An acquaintance that you want to be a friend?"

The elevator door bell chimed, and the doors opened to the parking garage. Mac's mouth was opened, shocked at the bravery Harm displayed. "I don't believe I have to answer that."

Harm didn't realize it, but he frowned. Mac caught his reaction, and decided to go easy on him. "No, you don't," Harm said, slightly quieter than before.

"He's someone who owed me a favor," Mac said quickly but carefully, hoping the information wouldn't do further damage to Harm. "So I was hoping to cash in on that favor, but then the Admiral gave us our orders, so our plans had to be rescheduled." Mac winced as she realized how it sounded coming out of her mouth.

Harm began to part ways with her. He lifted his hands up, signaling that he was backing off the subject. "Hey, it's your business, Mac," he said, his defense tactics in full gear. "I don't need to know."

"Harm, it's not like that. He's-we're-there's-"

"I'll pick you up at twelve-hundred." Harm forced a smile, and then climbed into his SUV.

Mac frowned, and threw open the door of her car, shutting it a little harder than necessary. _Damn it, _she thought, _this isn't good. If he only knew ..._

As he drove to his apartment, Harm tried to think of how the next few days were going to work with him and Mac. Though he was hurt and upset, he wanted to make the most out of their time together. He decided to let it go, and to just accept that Mac was at the beginning stages of a relationship, one that didn't involve him. It wasn't the end of the world. After all, there was still time to compete. Perhaps he could make her see how he really felt ...

"Yeah right," Harm said to no one in particular.

In the passenger seat of Harm's SUV, Mac thumbed through the folder of paperwork Harriet gave Harm before they left. "So we are taking the long way after all," she commented. "She printed us out a map of I-95."

"Eh, it's not so bad, Mac. It's midday, during the week, there shouldn't be any major traffic." Harm hoped that were the case, anyway.

"Let's hope you're right." Mac continued to read the paperwork. "It would figure that the Admiral wouldn't want to spend extra on two ferry tickets, plus a boarding pass for your car."

"Well, he does like keeping to a tight budget," Harm said, agreeing.

Mac sighed. "OK ... says here that we're staying on Ocean Street at The Fairwinds ... Bed & Breakfast." Mac was puzzled. "A B&B? Really? That would be too pricey to fit the Admiral's idea of economy lodging."

Harm shrugged. "I don't know, Mac, Harriet's pretty good at finding deals, ever since little AJ was born."

"True," Mac replied. "But from the website description, it sounds too nice to be that good of a deal. Maybe that's what she wanted to tell you before we left."

"Maybe ..." Harm said, not entirely convinced that that was the reason why Harriet was so concerned.

Mac continued to read the paperwork. "Alright, I've got the police headquarters address - I'll plug it into the GPS." Mac entered the address for the police station into the GPS, then sat back and watched the screen direct their journey. "So what are your theories about the case?"

"Obviously a murder, someone dumped the body and didn't do too good of a job," Harm stated factually.

"You can't conclude that it's _obviously_ murder without further examination and _factual_ evidence," Mac corrected.

"Come on, Mac, why else would a body be put in a bag?" Harm replied. "It's not like the guy crawled in there and tied himself up!"

"We can't assume facts before we have even investigated, Harm!" Mac said.

"You were the one who asked me for theories!"

"Yes, but you were the one who included assumed and circumstantial information in your theories as factual evidence."

Harm sighed. Their relationship had been strained lately, and Harm couldn't take it anymore. He was frustrated with it; he hated all the friction that was between them. They were picking on each other worse than ever before and, though he was also at fault for it, it was driving him insane.

There were several moments of silence between the pair as they drove. _This is going to be a long trip, _Harm thought.


	2. Chapter 2

1625 hours  
West Cape May Police Department

Washington Street

Cape May, NJ

Tired, and rather hungry, Harm and Mac entered the West Cape May Police HQ. It was small, and carried with it the typical small-town feel one might expect from a local police department. Harm counted a half-dozen police officers, not counting the Sergeant they were there to meet. The assistant at the front desk smiled as Harm approached the counter.

"Can I help you?" she said, flashing a pearly-white smile. Her long, wavy light brown hair fell over her shoulders casually as she smoothed her low-cut white sweater over a rather form fitting turquoise camisole. Mac mentally rolled her eyes.

"Hello, I'm Commander Harmon Rabb, and this is Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, and we're here to meet with Sergeant Phillips," Harm said to the young woman.

"Hi Commander, I'm Rebecca Phillips. I'm the Sergeant's niece." She gave him a light, flirtatious smile. "But you can call me Becky." As she said it, she touched Harm's arm coyly, doing her best to seduce him.

"Nice to meet you, Becky," Harm said, innocently giving her his trademark Flyboy Smile.

Mac then stepped up counter and gave Becky a quick smile. "Hi Miss Phillips," Mac said, her voice straight to the point with a slight edge to it. "We need to speak with your uncle as soon as possible. Would you please tell him we're here?" Her eyes stared straight into Becky's, signaling that whatever hopes she had for Harm were to be destroyed at once. Becky cocked her head slightly and forced a smile at Mac.

"Just a minute," she snipped, withdrawing her hand from Harm's arm, and turning on heel toward the door behind the desk.

As she left, Harm glanced over at Mac, his eyes wide; he had the hint of an amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You OK Mac?"

Mac smiled at him. "I'm fine. How about you? Need a cold shower when we get to our rooms?"

"Mac, she's far too young-"

"Oh, so if she was older, you might have considered it."

"No, that's not what I-"

"Good evening, Commander, Colonel," said Sergeant Marc Phillips as he entered through the doorway, followed by Becky, who flashed another smile at Harm. As the Sergeant shook Harm's hand, Mac's eyes caught Becky's, and Becky's eyes narrowed at her. Mentally noting but also ignoring his niece's immature behavior, Mac shook Sergeant Phillips' hand.

"Good evening, Sergeant," said Harm. "Is there somewhere we could go to review the facts of the case?" Harm looked over at Becky, who was still smiling at him.

"Aww, nah, Becky's fine. She's been around investigations before." Sgt. Phillips glanced over at Mac, who was trying to hide her disapproval. "But if you'd like, we can go elsewhere ..."

"No we'll be fine here, Sergeant," Harm said quickly, not wanting to damage their working relationship with the Sergeant before it even began. He knew that small town police could be tougher to work with if they felt unappreciated or like they were being turned away from their own case.

Mac, though she knew Harm might fear for keeping the Sergeant's working trust, couldn't help but wonder if Harm had agreed to stay so that he could see the Sergeant's niece. _She better keep her hands off his-_ Mac's train of thought was cut short as the Sergeant addressed her.

"Would you like some coffee, Colonel, Commander?"

"Please," Harm replied.

"Thank you, that would be great," said Mac gratefully.

"Our pleasure." Sgt. Phillips turned to his niece. "Becky, would you get us three cups, please? Thanks sweetie."

Becky smiled at her uncle and Harm, but when she looked at Mac, her smile faded. As she left, Harm glanced over at Mac cautiously, but saw that Mac's attention was focused on Sgt. Phillips. And, upon further inspection of Sgt. Phillips, Harm noted that the Sergeant's attention was most definitely fixed on Mac. _He better keep his eyes off her- _Harm's thoughts, this time, were cut short by Sgt. Phillips.

"So, what do you folks need to know?" Sgt. Phillips asked.

"Everything you do," Harm said, a little more aggressive than needed. Mac caught his tone, and glanced over at him. Harm laughed slightly. "We just wanted to speak with you to see what you've gathered so far."

"Well," Sgt. Phillips said, "our boys estimate that the Commander was dead for about a day or two before Ricky found him. Not much else to tell, really. We are thinking the cause of death is suffocation." Sgt. Phillips' eyes moved to Mac. "But we shipped him off to the lab this morning. So we make sure our bases are covered." He smiled at Mac and Mac smiled back, realizing he was flirting with her. _Two can play this game, Harm, _she thought.

"Sergeant Phillips," Mac said in a softer tone than before, "have any witnesses come forward?"

"Nope," the Sergeant replied. "The only person involved was Ricky. He was combing the beach when he found the bag." Sgt. Phillips leaned in closer to Mac. "You can go down to the scene, if you'd like. The beach is rather nice in the off-season. A little cold, but nothing a warm jacket or-"

"Thank you," Harm said, louder than necessary, "we'll be sure to visit the crime scene, Sergeant."

Becky reappeared with three mugs on a tray in hand. She placed the Sergeant's mug in front of him first, then leaned over the desk and placed Harm's gently down in front of him, smiling as she did. Her low cut sweater revealed slightly more than Harm cared to see, and he nodded to signal a thank-you, turning his head away. Frustrated, Becky grabbed Mac's mug and put it down carelessly on the desk in front of her. Mac's eyebrows rose as Becky pushed the creamers and sugars toward her, and walked away. Harm glanced up at Becky before she left, and Becky winked at him. This time, Mac's eyes rolled for real, and Harm's eyebrows lifted as he focused back on Sergeant Phillips.

"Sergeant," Harm said, disliking the way he looked at Mac so intensely, "the Coast Guard base isn't too far from here, correct?"

"That's right, it's on Delaware Avenue," Sgt. Phillips replied, still looking at Mac, who sipped her coffee, wishing she could plunge her entire self into the cup to hide. "About one and a half miles from the crime scene."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Harm said, standing. Mac followed suit reluctantly. "I think the Colonel and I will go take a look at the scene before it gets dark."

Sgt. Phillips stood and extended his hand to Harm. "You're welcome, Commander," he said, shaking Harm's hand. He then extended his hand to Mac, and gripped hers. "Let me know if I can do anything for you." Mac understood the Sergeant's implied meaning, and smiled it off, hoping to get out of the police station soon. Harm, sensing her distress, put his arm around Mac, and they turned to leave. He steered Mac ahead him, his hand placed on the small of her back as he led her out. This time, Mac smiled because she liked this side of Harm, and she hoped she could see more of it.

Once outside, Harm shook his head as they walked to the car. "I think the Sergeant likes you."

"Well, I think his niece really likes you," Mac retorted.

"Yeah, well, at least she's around my age," Harm teased.

"If you like robbing the cradle," Mac replied.

"At least I'm not buttering up to a man almost twice my age."

"I wasn't buttering up to him!" Mac said, stopping in front of the car. Harm stopped with her. Both realized how close in proximity they were to one another, but neither moved. "He was the one with the focus problems."

"I saw how you smiled at him."

"I was being polite!"

"You were leading him on!"

"I was not!"

"Maybe you're just irresistible then." The words came out of Harm's mouth before he had a chance to think. _Damn it ... damn it ... don't catch that, Mac._

"Am I?" Mac said softly, her eyes searching his.

Harm smiled and looked down to his shoes. Kicking a stone away, he replied, "You know you are."

"But not to you," Mac said, her tone slightly saddened.

"It's not easy for me either, Mac," Harm said, looking into her eyes.

"But you manage," Mac replied rather coolly.

"I wish I didn't." Harm's voice was barely above a whisper. Their eyes searched each others for a brief moment, until they were interrupted by Harm's cell phone. Sighing, Harm answered. "Rabb."

_"Commander, it's the Admiral. What have you got so far?"_

"Hello sir. We haven't obtained much information. Local police a little more lax than we anticipated. We're about to head over to the place where the body was found to see if we can dig up anything before dark. In the morning, the Colonel and I will visit the Coast Guard Station and go from there."

_"Very good, Commander. Keep me informed."_

"Aye aye, sir."

Harm closed his phone shut, and sighed. "Let's go, before it gets dark. Then we'll head over to the B&B to check in."

"Sounds good," Mac replied, opening the passenger door of their car and sitting inside. Harm climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine and drove them both to Beach Avenue.

1700 hours  
Beach Avenue  
Eastern Cape May Shore

"Well, looks like we'll only have a small window of daylight left to see what we can find," Mac said as she exited Harm's SUV, scanning the boardwalk and beach in front of her. The cool spring wind whipped against her, and Mac removed her cover and stowed it in the car. The winds were too strong to risk losing it.

Harm watched as the rich rays of the setting sun gleamed off of Mac's shiny brown hair, noting the radiant hues of red and chestnut that were visible when she removed her cover. To him, she looked beautiful as the ocean breezes tossed her hair playfully around her face.

Mac turned to Harm and squinted as the sun shone in her eyes. She noticed how he was staring at her, the same way he did before they left when he was in her office. Though it was uncomfortable to see how many unspoken things were in his gaze, she liked the fact that he looked at her that way; it was as if he were separating her from all other women in the world, and holding her above them. She felt special. Still, she wished he would just follow his instincts and say what he struggled so much to, so that everything would be out on the table. It would be easier to deal with than to let her mind play games with her.

Realizing he was staring, Harm turned his gaze from Mac toward the beach. "In his statement," Harm said, "Rick Farland said he found the body by the jetties, in between Perry Street and Ocean Street."

"So we should start there, then."

"Yeah ..." Harm frowned. "Although, I don't know how much we'll find, since the ocean most likely took any evidence further out to sea."

"I guess we'll just have to see what we come up with." Mac began taking off her pumps. "Harm, could you pop the trunk? I need to change to my boots."

Harm pressed the trunk lift button on his key fob and Mac headed to the back of the car, rummaging through her bag for her boots. When she had changed, she closed the trunk and Harm locked it, pocketing his keys. He smiled at her ensemble of military-issue pencil skirt and combat boots.

"I hear skirts and combat boots are the thing in Europe," he commented teasingly. Mac rolled her eyes, trying to hide a smile.

"You're just surprised I can pull it off like I do!" she said, turning away and heading toward the shore.

_You could pull off a potato sack, MacKenzie, _he thought with a grin as he watched her walk away from behind.

On the sand, they both trekked quietly toward the specified jetties. After a few moments of walking, Mac stopped suddenly, peering at something on the ground. "Oh, wow. Look!"

Harm stopped when he heard the excitement in Mac's voice as she stooped to retrieve something on the sand. Brushing it carefully off, she lifted it up for Harm to see with a smile. A slightly chipped sand dollar rested in her palm, and Harm's eyebrow lifted. "I thought you had something," he said with a smile.

"I do! This will look great in my collection," Mac said proudly.

"Collection?" Harm was surprised. "I didn't know you collected seashells, Mac."

"I guess ever since I was younger, I've been fascinated with finding treasures in nature. Uncle Matt taught me about fossils, so I guess shells just came naturally." Mac broke her gaze from the sand dollar and looked up at Harm. "Living in San Diego, I'm surprised you didn't collect them, too," she commented.

"I guess I never stopped long enough to see them," Harm said, reminiscing about his childhood.

After a while of combing the area where the body was found with no luck finding anything, Harm and Mac both found themselves wandering down the shoreline east toward Howard Street until they came to another pile of jetties. They were separate and silent in their pursuit for evidence, each exploring their own segment of the shore. Harm stayed along the coast line, hoping to catch something that hadn't been swept out to sea. "Mac, I don't think we'll find anythi-" He stopped when he didn't see her, and panicked slightly. "Mac?"

"Up here!"

Harm looked toward the jetties and saw Mac, nimbly making her way further down the large, black rocks toward the ocean. "Mac!" Harm said, with obvious worry in his voice. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing what I can see!" Mac called back loudly against the noise of the wind and waves.

"Well, be careful! I'm coming up!"

Harm had to admit that he felt nervous scaling the jetties, considering he hadn't had much experience before. Mac looked at home as she crossed from one rock to the next, even with the restriction of her skirt, while it took Harm a considerable amount of time longer to reach the same point. When he caught up with Mac, he was again surprised as he saw her squatting down and peering in between the large rocks. "See anything?" Harm asked, trying to see what she did.

"I don't know ..." Mac leaned further down to get a closer look. Harm stepped closer to her, and accidentally bumped into her. Mac lost her balance, and began to fall forward, but Harm panicked and grabbed her around her waist from behind, catching her. He pressed his body close to hers, trying to stabilize them both as he pulled her upward. Once they were both upright, Mac turned to Harm; he saw the fear she must have felt still slightly present on her face. Harm continued to hold her tightly in his arms, though the immediate danger had passed. Their eyes scanned each other's in silence; Mac could feel Harm's heavy breath on her face, and judging from his quickened breathing, she noted that his heart rate must have jumped when she slipped. Or, it could have jumped for another reason ...

"What did you see down there?" Harm said, slightly relaxing his grip around Mac. Coming back to reality, Mac frowned.

"I thought I saw a knobbed whelk, but I wasn't sure, so I-"

"A knobbed what?" Harm asked in surprised confusion.

"A knobbed whelk ..." Mac saw he still didn't understand. "A conch shell. But it was only a fragment-"

"You almost fell in between two jetties for a shell?" Harm sighed. "Mac ..."

"No, then I saw something else. Something blue and gold. Like shoulder boards."

Harm released Mac, and then peered into the same opening between the jetties that Mac had been looking at. After a moment of searching, Harm tried to reach down to retrieve an object. Unable to reach it, Harm laid flat on his stomach in one swift move, pushing himself closer to the edge of the jetty. Mac watched him, waiting to hold on to him if he slipped. A moment later, Harm lifted up a pile of sand and pulled himself up. He carefully brushed off the object, uncovering a shoulder board from a military uniform.

"How do you think it got there?" Mac asked, looking at the bar.

"I don't know," Harm replied. "But our victim wasn't just dumped here, Mac. He died here."

"What makes you say that?"

Harm showed her the board. "It's a Lieutenant board. Our victim was a Commander."

1810 hours  
The Fairwinds B&B  
Ocean Street

After a while longer of searching with no other results, Harm and Mac headed to their room to unpack and rest for the night. Shouldering their bags, they entered the Fairwinds Bed & Breakfast through its antique green door. Once inside the three-story gingerbread style Victorian home, they were greeted by a middle-aged woman with curly brown hair, glasses, and an obvious appreciation for animal print clothing. Her smile was warm and her voice was comforting. "Good evening, and welcome to The Fairwinds. Checking in?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Harm replied. "Our reservations are under Rabb, Romeo-Alpha-Bravo-Bravo."

The innkeeper smiled. "First time here to Cape May?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Harm said with a smile.

"Please, call me Marie," the innkeeper insisted, and Harm nodded.

"Nice to meet you. This is Colonel Sarah Mackenzie."

Mac stepped forward. "Nice to meet you, Marie."

"Likewise!" Marie said in a pleasant, happy tone. She slipped on her leopard-print reading glasses and began thumbing through her schedule book, stopping when she found their reservation. "OK, you will be staying in the Greenwich room. And I must say, this is our most photogenic room. All of the angles give it such character. One of our largest bathrooms, too, with a whirlpool tub and a mini fridge ..."

Mac smiled. "Um, which room will I be in, Ma'am?"

Marie took off her reading glasses and looked at Mac with a puzzled expression. "The Greenwich, dear," she said.

"And my room, Ma'am?" Harm asked hesitantly.

Marie looked up at Harm. She nodded while she replied, "The Greenwich."

Mac's lips parted, and Harm's eyes grew large. "There must be a mistake, Marie. We, uh, should have two rooms." Harm's voice was panicked.

Marie shook her head. "I have two people booked for the Greenwich under R-A-B-B." She paused, then gave an apologetic look. "I suppose you're not here together, then."

"Well, we are ..." Mac replied softly.

"We are, we're working together," Harm explained.

"Ahh. Well, the Greenwich has a decent sized couch and a queen-sized bed." Marie frowned. "I'm sorry, but everything else is booked up because of the Spring Festival. In fact, most everyone around here is booked up. We're expecting the biggest crowd yet!"

Harm flashed her a smile. "It's OK, Marie. We'll be fine."

Marie smiled back. "Great! If you will just follow me, I'll show you to your room."

While the three climbed two levels of stairs, both Harm and Mac mentally noted the Victorian themed decorations, furniture and accessories that the Fairwinds boasted of. Making a mental note that Sturgis was accurate in his description, Harm wondered what the room would be like and almost feared the results. Marie talked to them both about the history of the building and somewhat about the restoration process before they reached a door marked "Greenwich" on a gold plaque off the landing. "Here we are." Marie unlocked the room, and opened the door. As Marie flicked on the lights, Mac smiled. The cheery floral wallpaper, soft quilted bedspread, and charming period furniture reminded her of her own home. Harm, on the other hand, felt slightly out of place as he stepped inside the room, noting all of the low-stooping angles from the roof above them. Marie saw Harm's dilemma, and frowned. "I'm sorry, Mister Rabb, unfortunately we didn't know you were so blessed with height when we placed you in here," she apologized.

Harm shook his head. "It's fine, Marie. Thank you for help."

Marie smiled. "My pleasure. Just so you both know, breakfast is between eight o'clock and ten o'clock in the dining room downstairs. You're welcome to use the bicycles we have in the shed for our guests and if you need anything, just let us know and we'll get it for you. There are robes in the closet, if you need them. Oh, and we serve tea every afternoon at three."

"Thank you," both Mac and Harm said as Marie waved and left, clicking the Greenwich's door shut behind her. Dropping her bag in a open space, Mac sighed. "I guess this is what Harriet wanted to tell us." Harm nodded remorsefully. "I'll take the couch," Mac added, gesturing to the small Victorian-style couch that looked like hardly enough room for sitting, let alone sleeping.

"Mac, I won't let you sleep on the couch. You take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch," Harm insisted.

Mac put her hands on her hips. "Sailor, you're six-foot-four. How do you figure you'll even fit on the couch?"

Harm laughed softly. "I'll manage."

"I'll take the couch," Mac repeated, not at all convinced.

"Mac ..." Harm realized they both were unable to sleep on the couch, and inhaled for courage before finishing his sentence. "Maybe I'll take the floor." He chickened out asking her to share the bed with him.

"That's not what you wanted to say, is it?" Mac said perceptively, stepping closer to him. "We can both share the bed, you know. I mean, there is enough room for both of us on there." Mac and Harm both looked to the bed and then back at each other. Harm couldn't help himself as he stared at Mac, his mind wandering to imagine what she would look like in pajamas, laying next to him, sleeping peacefully. Or maybe without any pajamas ...

"Are you sure, Mac?" Harm asked, taking a step closer to her. He could feel her warm, soft breath on his skin, and it sent chills up his spine.

"I'm sure," Mac replied softly, imagining what it would be like to feel the heat of his body next to her all night, his arms around her, his hands-

Harm's cell phone ringer cut the silence of their fantasizing, much to both their dismay. Frowning, he answered with a sigh, "Rabb."

_"Sir, it's Bud. Sir, Harriet wanted to apologize-"_

"It's fine, Lieutenant. Tell Harriet everything is OK."

_"Sir, she felt really bad about not being able to warn you about the room, and she was too embarrassed to call you tonight."_

"It's fine, Bud. The Colonel and I are working it out right now." Harm stared deeply into Mac's eyes. She understood the subtext of his reply, and her heart jumped slightly, wondering if she was right about it.

_"Are you sure, Sir? Because we could-"_

"Bud," Harm said, "we're fine. Hang up and tell your wife everything is just fine, then spend time with her and your son. That's an order."

_"Yes, Sir. Goodbye, Sir."_

"Bye, Bud."

Harm closed his cell phone shut, and sighed. "Remind me to put the ringer on silent ..." Mac smiled, and then went for her bag.

"I heard something about a whirlpool tub," Mac said, retrieving some clothes and a toiletry bag. "Can't let that go to waste."

"Didn't figure you would, Mac," Harm commented with a grin. "Hey, I'm starved. I'm going to see what kind of food is in the area. I'll bring it back here, so we can discuss theories and our game plan for tomorrow. Want anything in particular?"

"As long as it's not meatless meatloaf!" Mac teased.

"Hey, that's a Rabb specialty," Harm defended. "How about pizza?"

"Perfect."

"Alright, I'm taking the key. I'll be back."

"I'll be here."

_I know, _Harm thought, pleased.

A little while later, with a large half broccoli, half meat-lovers pizza in hand, Harm returned to their room, clicking the Greenwich's lock shut. Harm glanced toward the bathroom; he mentally noted the door was slightly ajar. He could smell the lingering scent of lavender bath salts and heard gentle splashes from the whirlpool function of the tub. He could have also sworn he heard a low, deep sigh - the kind that only came from someone when they were truly enjoying something as relaxing as a bubble bath could be. Not wanting to disturb Mac's quiet moment, Harm carefully placed the pizza on the bureau and kicked off his shoes. He unbuttoned his khaki uniform shirt and tossed it aside, leaving his standard white tank and dog tags on. He sat up on the bed, propping a pillow in between the scrolled headboard and his back, and began peering over the case file.

When what seemed like forever, which was only a few minutes, had passed, Harm peered toward the cracked bathroom door. A mixture of worry, curiosity and hunger filled him, realizing that Mac hadn't responded to the obvious scent of pizza in the next room. Meat lover's, no less. Plus, she was a Marine - she should have inquired about his return. She would have. He got up slowly, stepping gingerly toward the bathroom. "Mac?" he called, in barely over a whisper. No response. "Mac, there's pizza out here." Nothing. He rapped on the door gently, and as he knocked, the door pushed gently open. "Man on deck!" he said hurriedly, panicking that he might find a indecent Marine Colonel as the door revealed the bathroom. _Well, that might not be so bad ..._

He smiled when he saw her in there, buried in a mass of foamy white bubbles up to her collar bone, her hair clipped carelessly behind her. She was in a decently sound sleep, and had clearly been so since probably right after he left for food, judging by the diminishing bubbles around her slim legs. His eyes widened. Her legs ... he could see them in the water, bubbles dancing scantily around her -

Eyes wide, he turned his gaze toward her sleeping face. He had to wake her up, but didn't want to startle her. Yet, with the bubbles quickly evaporating, he knew she'd most likely wring his neck if he didn't do it soon and he was still in the bathroom. Inside, he wanted to just keep staring in the direction of the foam in question, but he fought the urge and reached out slowly toward her exposed shoulder, carefully brushing his fingers -

"AHHH!"

Mac's eyes flew open, gasping at Harm's almost non-existent touch. Instantly, she grabbed his hand, and he yelped. "Oww!" he whined as she bent his fingers backward in automatic self defense. Mac focused on Harm's face and then gasped as she realized it was him. "I'm sorry!" she pleaded, feeling bad she had hurt him.

Harm withdrew his hand, rubbing it with the other. "Jeez, Ninja Girl, you didn't need the Kungfu grip," he sulked.

"I said I was-" Mac's eyes left Harm's and trailed down to her own body in the water, which was barely clad in bubbles. Her startled jump from Harm's touch had caused a particular group of bubbles to shift, ones that were covering-

"OUT!" She yelled, panicking at her situation. Harm's long legs barely got underneath him as he scrambled for the door.

"I'm going! I'm going!"

Once on the other side, Harm closed the door, sighing. His eyes fell toward the pizza on the bureau, most likely cold now. _Figures, _he thought. _Cold food, cold relationship_ ... His mind wandered back to Mac's scantily covered body in the bathtub_. Cold shower ..._

A moment later, Mac emerged, appearing calmer than before and also more awake. She was clad in a pair of gray shorts and an over-sized USMC t-shirt. Her hair was still clipped; Harm smelled the faint scent of lavender still lingering on her. Realizing he was staring at her, he nodded his head toward the pizza. "I got you meat lover's," he bribed, as a peace offering.

Mac's soft smile made Harm more at ease. "Thanks. I'm sorry about before. I guess I was more tired than I realized."

Harm's grin made Mac's heart melt a little. "It's OK. I knew something was wrong when you didn't come running for the food."

Mac's smile widened. She noted the case file on the bed. "Find anything?" she asked, peering over her shoulder as she took a slice of pizza from the box. She walked back over to the bed and climbed up on it, taking a small, yet eager bite of the pizza. Harm shook his head, crossing toward the pizza box. "Nothing that mentions a Lieutenant being mixed up with our deceased Commander in any way."

"Nothing in the crew interviews?"

"Nothing conclusive. Scuttlebutt, minor altercations ... nothing that would make someone want to kill someone else."

"With who?"

"A couple officers. Still, nothing to warrant killing someone."

"How do you know?"

Harm chewed on his pizza and shrugged. "You wouldn't kill a man, especially a senior officer, over something minor, Mac."

Mac focused on the case file. "What if it was just the straw that broke the camel's back?"

Harm paused. "It's a stretch."

"Come on, Harm, like you've never been pushed to your limit by things building up?"

Harm stared into Mac's eyes. She sensed he was fighting a truthful answer to that question, and knew he succeeded when he replied with, "I know when to let go."

Her lips pursed forward slightly, understanding what he meant by his response. She knew he was referring to their conversation in the parking lot. She mentally sighed_. He is misunderstanding this, but how can I tell him otherwise when he can't know right now?_

Mac broke her eye contact with Harm and decided to go into full business mode. She skimmed through the case file, taking note of the transcriptions from the interviews conducted. "We should probably re-interview these crew members."

Harm frowned. "Mac, it'll be over 48 hours after the fact. You know that stories can start to change after that length of time."

She nodded. "I know. I'm hoping they will."

Harm raised a brow at her. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Maybe it'll flesh out the truth for us."

Harm chose not to respond. He was too tired to be as optimistic as Mac was about their prospects of finding any clues for their investigation and he was certainly disgruntled over the tension that lingered in the air between them, thick enough to be suffocating. He shoved the last bite of his pizza in his mouth, chewed and swallowed quickly, heading toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna grab a shower and then hit the racks."

Seeing he was mentally bothered, Mac nodded slowly, not verbally responding. She didn't want to cause him any more damage by opening her mouth. She had hurt him enough for one night. She dropped her empty plate on the night table beside her and then pulled the quilt over her body. Snuggling down into the pillow, she let her eyes droop into a frustrated state of sleep as she listened to the rhythmic hum of Harm's shower.

Inside the shower, Harm ran his hands over his face, combing back his hair with a sigh. For a brief moment, he felt like he was the dead Commander of their investigation.


	3. Chapter 3

0752 hours  
Fairwinds B&B  
Ocean Street

"Rise and shine, sailor."

Harm groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, seeing a fully-dressed Mac standing by his side of the bed, hands on hips. She looked considerably more rested and cheerful than last night. _Good, at least one of us is, _he thought as he sat up, running a hand through his cropped hair. "What time is it?"

"Zero seven fifty-two. I've already showered so the bathroom is all yours. Figured I'd wake you up so we don't miss out on the breakfast part of the B&B."

"Uh huh," Harm replied slowly, still trying to wake up. He'd spent most of the night tossing and turning, unable to get any relief from the sea of emotions inside his head.

"You OK?" Mac asked, concern showing on her face.

Harm smiled. "I'm good." He sat up and padded his way over to the bathroom to get dressed. Minutes later, he reemerged, fully dressed and ready to go. "Alright, don't want the food to get cold," he said with a small smile.

As they headed toward the dining room, Harm and Mac could hear multiple muted conversations and smell fresh-baked muffins and breads, as well as a steaming egg casserole and smoked breakfast sausage links. It didn't dawn on them that they would be out of place at this type of establishment until they stepped in the large but well populated dining room, where they were surrounded by older couples past the age of retirement, with the exception of a relatively young couple who couldn't keep their eyes - and hands - off each other. Newlyweds, no doubt, Mac noted, seeing the young woman proudly displaying her left hand whenever the opportunity arose. Gracing her left ring finger was a large princess cut diamond set in what looked like white gold.

The lively chatter that had ensued came to a sudden halt when the two uniformed officers stepped into the gathering place. All eyes fell on Harm's long, lanky body and Mac's Marine uniform. After a moment of silence, one of the older men stood up abruptly from his seat next to his small, white-haired wife who donned a vivid floral print blouse. He whipped his arm into a salute toward Harm. "Good morning, Sir, Ma'am!" he said formally. Mac grinned as she noticed the older man's wife roll her eyes.

"Sit down, Ed!" she begged, shaking her head apologetically toward Harm. "I'm sorry, Officers. He gets a little carried away."

Not one to disappoint, Harm whipped his arm into a salute. "Good morning ... sailor, I presume?"

"Sir, yes sir! Seaman Edward Potinsky, USS Alastair."

"Good to meet you. At ease, Seaman."

Edward sat back down - rather, he was more or less was dragged back down by his embarrassed wife. She sighed. "Ed, will you please let the officers have their breakfast?" She turned to Mac. "I'm sorry about that."

Mac smiled. "It's quite alright, ma'am."

"Lydia," Edward said, acting like she was foolish for apologizing. "They're officers! I can't just sit down when they enter the room!"

"Yes, dear, you can." Lydia sighed. "You've only been retired for 15 years!"

The other guests chuckled and quickly fell back into their conversations, as if the exchange hadn't really happened. As they loaded up their plates with breakfast goodies, Marie entered and greeted Harm and Mac. "Good morning, Mister Rabb, Miss MacKenzie! How was your stay last night in the Greenwich?" She smiled as she poured Edward, Lydia and the honeymooning couple more coffee.

Harm blushed slightly, feeling the accusing gaze from Edward at Marie's suggestive question. "It was nice," he said, taking a seat at the table. Mac slipped in beside him, not meeting Edward's gaze. He apparently felt strongly against two officers under the same command spending the night together in the same room, or so it seemed from his body language.

"It is quite a lovely room," Marie said, oblivious to the unspoken accusations. "And quite spacious too."

"Quite," Harm said, still trying to stay away from the topic.

Marie poured Harm and Mac a cup of coffee, and gestured to the other guests. "This is Josephine and Frank, they are from New York."

"We come here often," said the small, older woman with perfectly coiffed hair beside the well-built Irish-looking man. Harm and Mac nodded a greeting.

"And here we have Zoey and Lucas, who just got married-"

"Two days ago," Zoey said, snuggling up to Lucas. He smiled and kissed her hand tenderly, as if no one else was in the room.

"And this is Edward and Lydia, who I believe you just met." Marie gestured toward Harm and Mac. "This is Mister Harmon Rabb and Miss Sarah MacKenzie."

"Commander!" Edward corrected, and added, "And Colonel!" before Lydia gave him a swift elbow to the ribs. "Oww," he whined.

Marie nodded. "Ahh, yes. I'm sorry, I was never too good with the military thing." She offered an apologetic smile.

"It's fine, Marie," Mac said with an understanding smile. "Nice to meet you all," she added while Harm smiled and nodded. Marie turned and left for the kitchen.

"So," Frank said, acting like a man with an obvious guard up around him. "What brings two military officers to a quiet tourist town?"

"Well, Frank," Harm began, but was cut off by Mac.

"We're here transporting documents," Mac said hurriedly, glancing at Harm. He looked over at her, confused. "The, uh, Coast Guard station needed them hand-delivered."

"I see," said Frank, noticeably unsatisfied with the answer he received. Josephine didn't say anything to chide him, but rather seemed suspicious of Mac as well.

"Baloney!"

Lydia jabbed Edward again after his outburst, then sighed loudly. "I'm sorry, Officers. He just doesn't know when to QUIT." She turned and emphasized the last word at her husband.

"It's baloney! Don't you people see their shoulder boards? JAG officers, that's who they are! Either somebody's getting sued, court marshalled or investigated! And why would you have a Commander and a Colonel delivering documents? Ludicrous!" The glee in Edward's voice was like that of a child who finally was being entertained after a long string of boring events.

"Well, Seaman," Harm said after chewing on his toast, "I do believe that you know, being a sailor yourself, that some things are on a need-to-know basis."

Edward nodded slowly, getting faster as he caught Harm's meaning. "Sir, yes sir. Classified information, sir!"

Lydia shook her head as she sipped her coffee.

"So you're from New York?" Mac asked Frank and Josephine, trying to break the ice she felt with the couple.

"Josephine nodded. "Born and raised. Well, Frank's from New Jersey. Bayonne. We're here visiting family."

"That's nice," Mac said politely.

"Yes, we're here visiting with my sister and brother-in-law," Frank said, leaning forward. "Perhaps you've met my brother-in-law already. Marc Phillips?"

Mac hesitated, looking over at Harm, who quickly answered. "Why yes, we have actually. Nice guy. Saved us from a big parking ticket." Harm flashed a grin and chuckled.

Keeping his eyes on Mac, Frank leaned back in his seat. "I see," he said, no emotion evident on his face.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mac both noticed the permanent scowl on Frank's face, the disapproving glare from Josephine and the PG-13 rated interactions between Zoey and Lucas. She was grateful when Harm finished his toast, since she had cleared her plate minutes before and was sipping her coffee while she waited. Harm wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin and stood up from the table, just as Marie was coming back into the dining room.

"Thank you, Marie, that was delicious," Harm said, smiling at her.

"Would you like some more coffee, Mister Rabb? Miss MacKenzie?" she offered sincerely.

"Commander! Colonel!" Edward corrected with a salute, yelping afterward as he was elbowed once again.

"No thank you, Marie," Mac said, eager to leave as she met Frank's hard gaze. "We'd best be going."

"Alright. Well you folks enjoy your day!" Marie said cheerfully as Harm and Mac put their covers on their heads as they headed for the door.

"Nice to meet you all," Harm said politely as they left. Sensing the tension Mac felt, Harm once again guided her outside with more protection than usual, steering her with the small of her back. He felt Frank's eyes burning into the back of his uniform as they left.

Outside, Harm glanced back at the shut side door to the dining room. "That was strange," he remarked, his eyes meeting Mac's. She nodded.

"How did he know we'd met Sergeant Phillips?"

"I don't know. I'm guessing Sergeant Phillips told his family about the real reason for our visit."

"I didn't think it was good to alarm anyone."

"I know," Harm said, frustration evident in his voice. "By today they'll all hear anyway, once the information's gone public."

"They're releasing the details?" Mac was surprised. They barely had linked anything together. "Right now, all they have is the body, a beach comber and a few disgruntled crew members."

"Can't you imagine what they'll come up with to fill in the gaps?" Harm said with a frown as they reached their car. "A town this size is going to be all over this thing."

"Great," Mac murmured. She paused and turned to Harm before getting in the car. "How do you know they're releasing a statement to the media today?"

Harm shrugged. "I saw the paperwork on the reception desk when we first got to the station."

"So you were staring at the paperwork, not her-"

"Mac," Harm sighed. She smiled.

"Just curious," she said, playfully teasing him. "It was all in the same region."

Harm shook his head in response; Mac saw the corners of his mouth pull upward into a smile as he did. "You might have noticed it too if you weren't so focused on playing nice for Sergeant Phillips."

Mac mock gasped for effect. "I was not!"

"Come on, I saw your big doe eyes fluttering."

"You saw nothing!"

"Uh-huh."

Harm climbed in the driver's seat of the SUV, a smile still playing around his lips. Mac embraced his good mood; she began to regain hope that her partner wasn't mad at her anymore for some reason that was unknown to her. As she watched the scenery pass by out the passenger's side window, she realized they were heading away from the police station, where she presumed they'd stop first with their newly acquired evidence - the Lieutenant shoulder board they found on the beach.

"Harm, the police station is that way," Mac said, pointing to the west.

"I know," Harm replied, unfazed.

"We need to turn in the shoulder board we f-"

"I'm not so sure that's the best thing right now, Mac." Harm turned and looked at her.

"Harm, that's evidence. We can't just hold on to it."

"Mac, they don't even know the evidence exists. Let's interview the officers and enlisted on the list, and go from there."

"Harm, we're JAG officers. We can't withhold evidence from an ongoing investigation!"

"We're not withholding ... we're just delaying the process."

Mac frowned. "I don't like this." She knew when Harm had a hunch about things, it was almost always best to follow. But still, there was the issue of withholding evidence from the investigation-

"I know," Harm said, quietly interrupting her thoughts. "I've just got this feeling, you know?"

Mac nodded, feeling defeated. She knew she trusted Harm, but she also knew he'd gone to great lengths to get to the truth before - lengths that jeopardized her career and his at one point or another. But she also knew that he would never put her in harm's way if he could avoid it. But would he, for the truth? She breathed deeply and thought of the possibilities of what they'd find at the Coast Guard station. They had a lot of work to do.

0902 hours  
JAG HQ

Falls Church, VA

"TINER!"

P.O. Tiner jumped halfway out of his seat in front of the Admiral's office when he heard the Admiral yell through the intercom system.

"Yes, sir?"

"Get me Lieutenant Sims. NOW."

"Uh, yes sir!"

Tiner scrambled through the bullpen, frantically grabbing Harriet as she headed in the opposite direction. "Ma'am!" he said, out of breath. "The Admiral wants to see you ASAP." He looked down away from her and added, "He doesn't seem too happy today."

Harriet nervously nodded, bracing herself for her fate as she headed toward the Admiral's office, giving a quick knock.

"Enter."

Harriet stepped inside, clicking the door shut behind her. "You wanted to see me, sir?" she said, a glimmer of nerves in her voice.

Admiral Chegwidden looked up from his file and peered at her over his glasses. He dropped the file down on his desk and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I received your approval for the travel expenditures for Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie, Lieutenant," he said, eyeing Harriet. "Can you please explain to me why my two senior JAG officers, who work in the same office together, are sharing a ROOM? In a BED AND BREAKFAST?"

Harriet swallowed hard. "The Cape May Spring Festival, sir."

The Admiral paused, his eyes large and slightly crazed. "The what?"

"The Spring Festival, sir." Harriet inhaled, continuing. "It's a rather popular event for the town of Cape May. Sir."

"Well that's very nice, now isn't it, Lieutenant?" The Admiral stood, pacing by his windows. "So you mean to tell me there were NO OTHER accommodations that the Commander and Colonel could've stayed in?"

Harriet began nervously rambling. "No, sir. Everything was booked solid. With the great weather the East Coast has been having, tourism has spiked, especially in the area, since the tulips and daffodils are all in bloom and the festi-"

"Lieutenant," Admiral Chegwidden said, growing increasingly frustrated, "You want me to approve two SENIOR OFFICERS SHARING SLEEPING QUARTERS ON PAPER at a pricey BED AND BREAKFAST ... BECAUSE OF TULIPS AND DAFFODILS?"

"Um ... yes, sir?"

Admiral Chegwidden turned to her and frowned, his eyes now fully widened and crazed. He knew in his mind that Harriet would try her best to find other arrangements if she could, but he still couldn't help but wonder if this was part of a larger scheme to "re-bond" Harm and Mac. Or something else ...

"Lieutenant," he said, after a moment of calming down, "this wouldn't be part of some kind of elaborate scheme to, I don't know, somehow force Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie to settle their differences, would it?" He stared her down, arms crossed, his best show of Two-Star Admiral authority on his face and in his body language.

Harriet quickly shook her head. "N-n-n-o, sir!" she replied truthfully. "It was because of the Spring Festival, sir!"

The Admiral held her gaze for a moment, then turned back to his windows. "Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Harriet scrambled out the door after a quick about-face.

The Admiral shook his head. "Tulips and daffodils ..." he muttered under his breath.

Outside the Admiral's office, Harriet let out a huge sigh of relief. At least that was over with. She knew the Admiral would see the accommodations and practically ring her neck for it. She also knew he was going to have a pull a few-or more-strings in order to keep Accounting quiet on the situation. If word got out that two military officers were sharing sleeping quarters on work time with no appropriate circumstances other than a whole town being booked up, things could get ugly fast.

"Lieutenant!"

Harriet was interrupted from her chain of thoughts by Lieutenant Singer's distinct voice. _Great, _Harriet thought as Singer approached her. "Yes, Ma'am?" Harriet asked politely.

"Sounds like you got chewed out in there pretty badly, I'd say," Singer commented, nodding toward the Admiral's office.

"The Admiral just wanted to go over a few specifics about Commander Rabb's and Colonel MacKenzie's trip," Harriet replied, trying to break away from the conversation and from Singer herself.

"Well, with them sharing a room and all, I'm sure the Admiral is pretty suspicious." Singer's eyebrow raised at Harriet.

"It's out of necessity, Ma'am," Harriet defended, trying to avoid the conversational trap Singer was setting. "Everything was booked solid."

"Hmm ..." Singer looked up while she thought out loud. "I wonder if it'll help them get back to being friends. Or it could hurt them even more. I mean, afterall ..." Singer paused for effect, "Colonel MacKenzie did have to cancel a dinner date in order to go on the investigation."

"Well, that's really none of my business-"

"Seems like she's been really friendly with a guy named James Kennedy," Singer continued, not noticing Harriet's discomfort with gossiping about Harm and Mac's relationship and lives behind their backs. "Gets phone calls from him at least once a week."

"Well, Ma'am, it's not really my place to comment on their personal lives."

"You're right," Singer said. "I just wonder how they're doing, being in such close quarters and all. It really is a shame. I mean, after all, the Admiral could've sent me. At least I would be able to dedicate myself one-hundred percent to the investigation, unlike someone who's bitter about work messing up their love life."

"If you'll excuse me, Ma'am, I really have to get back to my duties." Harriet stared at Singer hard, hating how she twisted everything with everyone to make herself look better. Singer faked a smile and nodded, and Harriet excused herself and went back to her desk. As she continued with her duties, Harriet couldn't help but wonder if Singer had been truthful about Mac developing a new relationship. After all, she had seen for herself how Mac often took phone calls in private, smiling all the while. She had caught a glimpse of a mystery man, who she now knew was James Kennedy, one night after hours when he came to pick Mac up for dinner - or so she suspected. He was a good-looking man, but didn't seem right for Mac. And maybe she was just trying to imagine it, but she could've sworn she saw a little bit of ... obligation ... in Mac's body language as she interacted with James. _It's good for the Colonel to move on, _Harriet thought. _Isn't it?_

0928 hours  
U.S. Coast Guard Station  
Cape May, NJ

"So you say you never had any differences with the Commander?"

Harm rubbed his temples wearily as he and Mac sat in their makeshift interview room, looking across the table at one of their officers from the list they had been given of suspects.

"No, sir. Commander Tanner was a good officer and a friend," Lieutenant Roger Hamilton replied, slightly nervous.

"You never had a squabble with him? Never got into an argument?" Mac asked.

"Not me, sir. But maybe once ... or twice ... Lt. Isaac and Commander Tanner did, ma'am," Lt. Hamilton confessed.

"Over what?" Harm said, leaning forward.

"Um, well, there was, um, a bit of, um-"

"Spit it out, Lieutenant," Mac said firmly.

"Yes, ma'am. Well, Commander Tanner and Lieutenant Isaac disagreed about, um, Becky." Lt. Hamilton gulped as he glanced over at Mac nervously.

Mac sighed and Harm raised an eyebrow at him. "Becky?"

"Yes, sir. Rebecca Phillips, sir."

"Is Lieutenant Isaac dating her?"

"No, sir. Yes, sir. I-I'm not sure, sir."

"What did they disagree about?"

"Well, sir, Commander Tanner thought Beck-Miss Phillips was a ... player, sir."

This time, Mac's eyebrow raised, remembering her interaction with Harm the day before. Harm continued. "So Lieutenant Isaac disagreed then?"

"Sort of, Sir. He, uh, has a thing for her. Sir."

"Lieutenant, Commander Tanner was off duty on the nineteenth. Do you know if he had plans?"

"Not really, ma'am. But I do know that he loved to surf. I know I heard him talking about surfing the day before he went on leave."

"Surfing?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Where?"

"I don't know, ma'am. He mentioned Wildwood a few times."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

Lt. Hamilton quickly stood and saluted. "Aye, aye, sir. Ma'am." He left the room, obviously nervous. Harm ran a hand through his hair and looked down at their list. Sure enough, the last Lieutenant to be called in was Isaac. "Petty Officer, send Lieutenant Isaac in."

"Aye, aye, sir," came from the hall way outside the room. A moment later, Lt. Christopher Isaac entered and saluted Harm and Mac, then sat in the chair in front of them after Harm invited him to sit.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Mac said with a little more cheer than had been in her voice a few moments ago. Harm followed where she was glancing at and saw Lt. Issac was missing his right shoulder board. _Bingo, _Harm thought with excitement. "What can you tell us of your relationship with Commander Tanner?"

"Well, Ma'am, he was a fine officer. He was my squad leader, and a great one at that." Lt. Isaac's reply wasn't suspiciously nervous, nor was it suspiciously calm. He seemed to be the right balance of both. _Odd, _Harm thought. _Shouldn't he be a little more one way or the other?_

"Lieutenant," Harm began, "you said Commander Tanner was your squad leader. So you mean to tell me you never got into any arguments when it came to his direction?"

"May I speak frankly, sir?" Lt. Isaac asked. Harm nodded. "Well, sir - I'd be lying if I said everything was peaches and cream. But as far as the overall picture, Commander Tanner was a good officer and a good leader. I'd happily serve under him, if he were alive still."

"So there were differences, then?" Mac asked.

"Some, ma'am. But who doesn't have a scuffle every now and then?" Lt. Isaac glanced at both Harm and Mac. "We never had a physical fight. Maybe a word or two spoken out of jest that took a slight turn south, but that's about it, ma'am."

"Ever lost your temper with him?"

"No, ma'am." Lt. Isaac looked directly at Mac. "He being a senior officer, I respected him."

"You were off duty the same day as Commander Tanner - on the nineteenth, is that correct?" Harm inquired.

"Yes, sir."

"Did you run into Commander Tanner at all?"

"No, sir. I was in Wildwood that night, sir."

"What were you doing in Wildwood, Lieutenant?" Mac asked.

"Well, ma'am ... there aren't many watering holes near the station. Wildwood is only a fifteen minute drive north from here."

"And Commander Tanner wasn't with you?"

"No, ma'am."

"What about during the day, Lieutenant?"

"I didn't see him, ma'am."

"It's a pretty small town, Lieutenant ..."

"I didn't see him though, ma'am."

"Lieutenant," Harm interrupted, "you're missing a shoulder board."

"Sir, yes sir. I took my uniform to the dry cleaners here in town, and when I got it back at approximately fifteen hundred hours, it was missing."

"When was this?"

"Zero nine-hundred on the nineteenth, sir."

"You took it to the cleaners in town here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you fill out paperwork for the missing garment?"

"Yes, sir. My commanding officer is aware of it. I'm suppose to get a replacement today, sir."

"I see." Harm leaned back in his chair. "So at zero nine-hundred the day before Commander Tanner's body was found, you dropped your uniform off at the cleaners. Then what? You pick it up later at fifteen hundred hours and notice the shoulder board missing. Then you went to Wildwood?"

"Well, no sir. At least not yet, sir. I went and saw Becky first."

"Who's Becky?" Mac asked, fearing she knew the answer already.

"Rebecca Phillips, ma'am," Lt. Isaac replied. "She works at the police station."

Harm met eyes with Mac, then turned to face Lt. Isaac. "Is she your girlfriend?" he asked.

"Um, well, sort of sir."

"What did you do with Miss Phillips?" Mac asked quickly.

"We, uh, had lunch, ma'am."

"Where?"

"The Market Cafe, ma'am."

"Where is that, Lieutenant?" Harm asked.

"Elmira Street, sir."

"Did you eat lunch after you picked up the uniform?"

"Yes, sir."

"Which cleaners did you go to?"

"Mode Cleaners. On Texas Avenue."

"When did lunch end?"

"Around fifteen ten, sir."

"After that?"

"I, uh, just went for a walk on the beach. I was suppose to meet Becky, uh, Miss Phillips there after she got off work. Then I went to-"

"You were meeting Miss Phillips on the beach?"

"Yes, sir."

"Which beach?" Mac asked.

"Right near Beach Avenue, ma'am."

"When did Miss Phillips get there?"

"She didn't, ma'am."

Mac shot Harm a glance. Harm picked up the interview. "Why not, Lieutenant?"

"Well, sir, she called and broke it off with me. Sir."

"Why?"

"I-I'm not sure, sir. She just said she didn't want to see me anymore."

"So you go to the beach to meet Miss Phillips, only to break up with her over the phone."

"That's correct, sir."

"Did that make you mad?"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Did it make you mad that she broke up with you?"

"Well, um-"

"It's funny, Lieutenant," Harm said, "Because Lieutenant Hamilton said he heard scuttlebutt to the effect that Commander Tanner was planning on going surfing in Wildwood."

Lt. Isaac froze for a moment. "Sir, I didn't see Commander Tanner on my off-duty day."

"So you didn't run into him while you were in Wildwood?"

"No, sir."

"What time did you get to Wildwood?"

"Around eighteen-hundred hours."

"So what were you doing between fifteen-hundred and eighteen-hundred hours?" Mac asked.

"I, uh, walked the beach for a while."

"Three hours, Lieutenant?"

"Um, just about that. I left for Wildwood at around seventeen-thirty."

"So let me get this straight, Lieutenant," Harm said sternly. "You're off on the nineteenth, the same as Commander Tanner. You start the day off at the cleaners, go to lunch, pick up your incomplete uniform, head to the beach to wait for Miss Phillips, who breaks up with you. Then you walk the beach for two and a half hours until you get in your car to go to the local watering hole in Wildwood. Which is what, by the way?"

"Um, Fryar's Pub on Atlantic Avenue."

"So that means you have two and a half hours unaccounted for, Lieutenant," Harm remarked. "Do you have an alibi for that time?"

"N-no, sir. I was by myself."

"So how are we suppose to know what really happened?"

"I guess you have to just trust me, sir." Lt. Isaac stared directly at Harm.

"Lieutenant," Mac said, "Lieutenant Hamilton seemed to think that you and Commander Tanner had disagreements about Miss Phillips."

Lt. Isaac's jaw visibly tightened. "Commander Tanner thought Becky-Miss Phillips-was seeing other men."

"So you mean to tell me you weren't the least bit upset when she broke up with you?" Harm inquired.

"I was, sir. Yes, sir."

"And after she broke up with you, you just happened to be by yourself for two and a half hours on the same day Commander Tanner, who you disagreed with about Miss Phillips, was off duty," Harm reviewed firmly. Lt. Isaac's mouth opened to object, but Harm kept going. "And a couple days later, Commander Tanner's body is found in a garbage bag on the same stretch of beach you were walking - by yourself." Mac was surprised by Harm's verbal attack toward the Lieutenant, but remained silent.

"Sir, I didn't see Comman-"

"Lieutenant, you have no alibi for the missing time," Harm chided. "The Colonel and I are going to see if the rest of your story checks out. In the meantime," Harm stood, grabbing his cover off the table, "you will be detained as a suspect until further notice. Petty Officer, take Lieutenant Isaac into custody and inform his commanding officer."

The P.O. waiting outside the room came in swiftly and took Lt. Isaac's arm as he stood. "Aye, aye, sir. If you'd come with me, sir," he said to Lt. Isaac, who stared at Harm dead in the eyes, then turned and left.

Mac glanced over at Harm, folding her notebook up and storing her pen away in her briefcase. "That almost seemed too easy," she commented absently. Harm nodded.

"It was," he said. "We're missing something here."

"So you don't think it's just about a disagreement over a woman?"

"I'm not sure, but that's what we're going to find out."


	4. Chapter 4

1045 hours  
The Market Cafe  
Elmira Street

"Yep, I remember him."

Kitty Gallagher, a short, middle-aged woman with fiery red hair wiped her hands on her waist apron as she took a long look at the photo Mac held up of Lt. Isaac for her. "So he was here having lunch around two o'clock on the nineteenth?" Mac asked.

"Yeah. He came in with Becky Phillips. They looked real happy together."

"Ms. Gallagher, have you seen Miss Phillips with the Lieutenant before?"

"Oh sure," Kitty replied. "Whenever he was off duty, they were together. Though," Kitty paused, remembering for a moment, "it seemed like sometimes Chris was on edge. Like, he'd look over his shoulder to see if someone else was around. Almost like he was overly protective of Becky, you know?"

Mac and Harm met eyes quickly, then Harm continued. "Ms. Gallagher, did you ever see Lieutenant Isaac get into a fight over anything?"

"No, not that I can say," Kitty replied. Her face changed a moment later. "Well, there was that one time with Fred Harley."

"Fred Harley?"

"Fella from the docks. Thinks he's God's gift to women." Kitty looked at Mac. "You know the type. Don't take no for an answer. He always comes in on his break between two-thirty and three o'clock during the week."

"So Lieutenant Isaac got into a fight with Fred Harley over Miss Phillips?" Harm asked.

"Well, not exactly," said Kitty. "See, Fred approached Becky, since pretty much all the men in town have a thing for Becky. She was waiting for Chris for lunch. She turned him down and Fred got upset. He rarely gets turned down."

"What did Lieutenant Isaac do?"

"Well, Chris came in a moment later and saw what was going on. Came in between Becky and Fred and asked Fred to leave and to leave her alone. Fred taunted him a little, but Chris held firm. He was so quiet and patient, just kept asking him to 'Please let her be.' Never even touched Fred once! Fred kept shoving him, trying to get him riled up. Finally, Fred backed off." Kitty sighed. "Poor guy."

"Do you remember what day this was?"

"Hmm ... I think it was last Friday."

Harm's eyebrow raised. "The nineteenth?"

Kitty nodded. "Yep, that was the day." She paused. "Come to think of it, that's the last time I saw those two in here together."

"So you haven't seen Lieutenant Isaac since the nineteenth?"

"Nope. Haven't seen Becky either."

Mac smiled. "Thank you, Ms. Gallagher."

"Sure thing." Kitty smiled as Harm and Mac exited the cafe.

Once inside the SUV, Mac turned to Harm. "So we have an on-edge Lieutenant Isaac, ready to defend his girlfriend Rebecca, who is popular with the men in town, who breaks up with him for no reason at all. And we have a deceased Commander who viewed her as a two-timer, who also happened to be off duty the same day as an angry, upset Lieutenant Isaac. Then our Commander is thought AWOL and then three days later found dead." Mac snapped her notebook shut and looked at Harm, who was staring blankly out the windshield as he drove. "What do you think we're missing?"

"I'm still not sure it's that cut and dry, Mac," Harm said, deep in thought.

"What more can there be?" Mac asked, puzzled by Harm's resistance. "We've got people in his squad witnessing arguments, people in town who can testify to the Lieutenant's on-edge behavior, and we've got more motive to commit manslaughter than we need."

"Why would he kill Commander Tanner?"

"Maybe he just lost control?"

"It doesn't make sense, Mac. The guy doesn't have a record of any _parking tickets_, let alone anything else."

"Harm, be reasonable!" Mac argued, frustrated with Harm's stubbornness. Her phrase grated on his nerves. He remembered her saying that about the Yarder case ...

Harm shook his head. "Mac ..."

"Harm, what is it with you lately?" Mac asked, completely confused by him. "You were just as unreasonable with the Yarder case as you are with this one! Only when the Admiral said it was an open-and-shut case did you agree, despite the overwhelming amount of evidence that I had to prove my side. Why can't you just accept that some things ARE ACTUALLY the way they seem?"

"What if it's not?"

"It IS, Harm!"

"So everything's just the way it seems, right Mac?" Harm asked, his anger building up inside of him_. The phone calls, the laughs, the man at the elevator, her smile when she saw him _...

"Sometimes it is, Harm," Mac replied, agitated.

"Fine!" he yelled back. "If that's what you want!"

"Harm, this isn't about what I want! It's about what it is!"

"Oh really?" Harm was boiling over. "I'm glad it's all so cut and dry for you!"

Mac sensed he was no longer referring to the Tanner case, or even the Yarder case for that matter. "Harm, what are you-"

"I'm glad you're ready to just move right along!"

"What do you mean-"

"Nevermind, Mac," Harm said, still angry, but now masking a great deal of it. He inhaled and exhaled deeply. "We'll check the rest of his story. If we can't come up with an answer to the missing time, we'll file charges tomorrow morning."

Mac felt unsettled as she sat in the passenger's seat, watching the scenery go by. She got the sense that Harm was digging at something deeper than the case they were working on. She glanced over and noted how his hands gripped the steering wheel with fervent intensity, his knuckles whitened under the tension.

Before she had a chance to inquire any further, they pulled into a parking spot in front of Mode Cleaners. Mac exited the SUV carefully, still watching Harm's movements. She saw him close the door to the vehicle a little harder than necessary, squeeze his eyes shut, then almost "shake it off" as he walked toward the cleaners. She fell in step beside him, but he didn't look over at her; instead, he quietly opened the door for her and waited as she slipped inside, searching his eyes, which didn't search hers back.

When Lieutenant Isaac's stories for the dry cleaners and for Fryar's pub checked out, a frustrated Harm and Mac piled back into the SUV to head back to Cape May from Wildwood. There was a heavy air of silence until Harm's cell phone ringer shrilled furiously from his pocket. "Rabb," he answered, distraction obvious in his voice.

"Commander, this is Sergeant Phillips," Sgt. Phillips said over the phone. "I just wanted to let you know I received the autopsy of Commander Tanner's body. Cause of death was found to be asphyxiation."

"Thank you, Sergeant. The Colonel and I were just on our way to give you a piece of evidence we found against a Lieutenant Christopher Isaac." Harm's eyes narrowed. "Sound familiar?"

"Wait, that wouldn't be the same boy Becky was seeing?"

"The very same."

"Dear God. You think he killed him?"

"We can't say that for certain, Sergeant. But we do have some evidence against him. We aren't filing any charges until we've made sure we've covered all our bases."

"Of course, Commander. I'll see you when you and Colonel MacKenzie get here."

"Bye, Sergeant."

Harm flipped his phone shut and sighed. He had blown up and Mac and could sense she was tense because of it. D.C. was a long way away, so he figured he'd better play nice. At least until they got back tomorrow. That's how things were looking right now for their schedule, anyway. "Hey, Mac ... I'm sorry about going off like that," Harm said sincerely. Mac turned toward him. "I, just ... well, I just want to make sure we find the truth."

"So do I, Harm," Mac said, a cool edge to her voice.

"I know you do," Harm quickly added, afraid she'd take it the wrong way. "I guess part of me really wanted to believe Lieutenant Isaac, that's all."

"Harm," Mac's voice softened, "I know how much the truth means to you. I know you'd do anything to find it ..."

_I would do anything ..._

"...But sometimes, the truth isn't all that nice to find." Mac was careful not to be harsh, since she knew it took a lot for him to apologize in the first place.

_No, it isn't._

Harm nodded. He wasn't going to press the point further. He just wanted to make peace while he still could.

1520 hours  
West Cape May Police Station

"I'll tell ya," Sgt. Phillips said as he examined the shoulder board in the plastic baggie Harm handed him, "I'd wondered about that boy."

"What do you mean?" Mac asked.

"Well, you see, Christopher was a quiet one," Sgt. Phillips replied, looking toward Mac. "And those quiet ones can't be trusted sometimes."

Harm frowned. "That's a pretty general statement, Sergeant. Besides, if someone's quiet by nature, it's usually a sign of them being peaceful people."

"Not always, Commander!" The Sergeant looked at Harm with a hard glare. "What about those kids who blow up schools? They're always the quiet ones ... the ones that slip through the cracks."

"So you're saying Lieutenant Isaac was disturbed?" Mac said, confused by the revelation.

"I don't know about disturbed, but I do know the boy held on to tension just a little too much."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, when Becky called it off with him, she said he didn't say anything. He just was quiet." Sgt. Phillips looked back to Harm. "And I don't know about you, but if I lost the woman I cared about, I wouldn't be quiet." His eyes trailed off toward Mac, whose lips parted slightly at Sgt. Phillips' dig toward Harm.

Harm swallowed deep, his voice controlled, yet darkened. "Maybe he handled the news differently than you would," he replied coolly.

"Hmm, seems like he wouldn't be that good of a man to just let her go like that." Sgt. Phillips was still staring at Mac, suggestion in his eyes. "If he really wanted her, she would know it."

Mac turned away slightly, catching a glimpse of Harm's right hand balled into a tight fist. Gently, she stretched her hand closest to his fist and touched it, as if to calm Harm down. She felt how tense his body was and got confirmation when she looked at his face, which was tightened into a glare at the Sergeant.

"Why didn't you come forward with any of this when we came to you last night?" Harm asked angrily. He felt Mac's gentle touch and slowly released his fist.

"Didn't think my niece's breakup had anything to do with a murder case," Sgt. Phillips said with a laugh in his voice. "I mean, they're young - isn't that what they do? Get together, then break up?"

"Sergeant, we're going to have to speak with Rebecca to confirm some details about Lieutenant Isaac's whereabouts," Mac said, switching gears. "To see if the Lieutenant's story checks out."

"Sure thing. Becky's shift today begins at three, she should be here any minute now." He checked his watch. "Hmm ... not like her to be running late."

"We'll just wait for her, then."

"Of course, Colonel." Sgt. Phillips gestured toward his office. "If you'd like, you can wait in my office. It's more comfortable there."

Harm saw through Sgt. Phillips' politeness, catching his suggestive look toward Mac. "We're fine out here," Mac said quickly, smiling politely at Sgt. Phillips as she sat in one of the two plastic chairs by the reception desk.

The Sergeant shrugged. "Suit yourself." Heading toward his office, he said, "By the way, I've released some of the story to the media. Figure people have a right to know what's going on in their town."

"Without all the evidence, you're just creating unnecessary panic and accusations," Harm said, still angry with Sgt. Phillips.

"We're not saying anything about any suspects. I mean, after all, word gets around town faster than we can control it." Sgt. Phillips looked Harm in the eye. "Figure I may as well give them whatever truth we've got."

Mac gently pulled Harm down to sit beside her as Sgt. Phillips clicked his office door shut. But Harm resisted, standing instead. She tilted her head and looked up at him. "Harm ..."

"I'm alright, Mac," Harm said, giving her a small smile of reassurance. "I just want to see what I can see."

Harm meandered toward the reception desk, looking toward Sgt. Phillip's office. He noted that Sgt. Phillips was on the phone, his office blinds closed halfway. Harm then glanced around the small station, aware of the police officers passing in and out of the main lobby area. Without trying to attract any attention, Harm stretched his neck to peer over the counter and observed the desk. Everything was fairly neat and tidy, normal-looking really. His long arm stretched over the desk and gently pressed the speaker phone button on the phone console, then the redial. Mac quickly moved to his side, sliding out her notebook and pen.

A few rings later, a message recording played. "Hi, this is Chris. Leave me a message after the beep."

Harm quickly hung up, checking to see if Sgt. Phillips had noticed them. He hadn't. Mac furiously scribbled a message to Harm. She tapped him to read it.

_**Should we have Bud pull the phone records?**_

Harm nodded and Mac quietly stepped outside, flipping open her cell phone. Harm watched her through the large glass on the front window, then noticed Frank walk past her toward the door while her back was turned. Harm's eyes narrowed as he saw Frank come inside. _What are __you__ doing here? _he thought as Frank entered the station.

"Well, Commander Rabb, good to see you again," Frank commented, sizing Harm up with his gaze.

"Frank, how are you?" Harm said cautiously. "Visiting your brother-in-law today?" He took a step closer to Frank with an air of challenge.

"I thought I'd drop in for a visit," Frank replied, his voice cool and his tension obvious. "We're planning to do some fishing later this afternoon before supper."

"We're just waiting to speak with Rebecca about the investigation," Harm said. "Which I'm sure you've heard about. Seems like your family is very open with things."

"Marc did tell me." Frank crossed his arms over his chest. "It's a shame you lied at breakfast though, Commander. I'm sure that doesn't bode well for the Navy."

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

"Come on, Commander. They don't call the Legal Eagles up from Washington if there's nothing wrong." Frank smiled grimly.

"You're right, Frank," Harm replied, taking another step closer, peering down at the older man. "We're the ones who figure it all out."

Mac's entrance interrupted the standoff between Frank and Harm. Seeing Harm's stance, Mac looked over toward Frank, who turned around and smiled at her. "Ahh, Colonel MacKenzie," he said in his best attempt to distract Harm. "Nice to see you again today."

"Likewise, Frank." Mac was cautious in her tone.

At that moment, Sgt. Phillips reappeared from his office. "Frank, good to see you!" He smiled as he crossed over toward the three. "I trust you've already met Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie?"

"I have, actually, at breakfast," Frank said to his brother-in-law. "They're staying at The Fairwinds as well."

"Now that's something!" Sgt. Phillips remarked. "Small world, isn't it?"

"Very," Harm said, less than pleased.

The group was interrupted by the front door opening. Rebecca Phillips entered quietly, almost in a scared manner. "Hi Uncle Marc, sorry I'm late."

"It's OK, Becky," Sgt. Phillips said, crossing toward her. He put his arm around Becky's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie have a few questions for you about Chris." He looked down at her; Becky's eyes met his, and she slowly nodded.

"S-s-sure," she said.

"Why don't the three of you use my office?" Sgt. Phillips said, leading Becky toward the back of the room where his office was. Harm and Mac followed; Harm glanced over his shoulder at Frank_. I wonder if we're questioning the right person ... _But Harm didn't have time to act on his instincts, since Mac had already entered the office, ready to question Rebecca.

Harm was the last one inside the office. He clicked the door shut and gestured toward one of the empty chairs. "Have a seat, Miss Phillips."

"Please, call me Becky," she said, in a friendly but non-suggestive manner.

"OK, Becky," Mac said, observing the young woman. "Lieutenant Isaac said he was with you on the nineteenth at The Market Cafe around two o'clock. Is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What happened afterwards?"

"Chris invited me to take a walk on the beach after my shift at the station."

"Did you go?"

"No. I called him on the phone and broke up with him." She swallowed hard.

"Why did you do that?" Harm asked.

"Chris ... was a nice guy," Becky said slowly. "But he just took everything way too seriously. I didn't want to move as fast as he did."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, um, Commander, that's private."

"So he wanted to move things along and you didn't," Mac said. "Why didn't you just tell him that?"

"I did. But he wouldn't listen."

"So he was stubborn?"

"Very much so, ma'am."

"Do you live with your uncle?" Harm asked.

Becky shook her head. "No ... but he's like a father to me. My mother and father died in a car accident when I was little. Uncle Marc raised me."

"What does your uncle think about Lieutenant Isaac?"

Becky paused. "He ... doesn't care for him."

"Why not?"

"I-I don't know, sir."

"So you broke up with the Lieutenant?" Mac asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And what did he say when you did?"

"...Nothing."

"Someone who's very stubborn says nothing?"

"I-I don't know why, but he just sat there on the other end. I guess it felt like a kick in the gut."

"Why were you late for your shift just now, Becky?" Harm asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I had some errands to run. Took longer than I thought." She met his eyes.

"What kind of errands?"

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" Becky was defensive. "I thought you wanted to know about Chris!"

"We do, Becky," Mac said reassuringly. "Is there anything else you can tell us about the day you broke up with Lieutenant Isaac?"

"After we spoke on the phone, I went shopping. Then I went to work. That was it."

"Where did you go shopping?"

"Macy's."

"Where at?"

"The Lincoln Mall."

"And where's that at?"

"About an hour north."

"An hour?"

"I kinda needed to blow off some steam, you know?" Becky looked at Mac. "I mean, haven't you ever broken up with someone? You just feel like you could drive forever, right?" Harm saw Mac give a slight nod; a sign of understanding, something he assumed was strictly meant to be female-to-female. Besides, he would handle a break-up differently. He'd buy a 12-pack and drink himself better. Not that he had experience or anything ... Becky interrupted Harm's internal rambling thoughts. "Anyway, when you live around here, everything's an hour away."

"So Lieutenant Isaac was alone after you broke up with him?"

"I guess. I know I wasn't with him." Becky glanced between Harm and Mac. "Can I go now? I have to check the messages."

"Sure," Harm said, opening the door for her. As Harm looked out the door, he saw Sgt. Phillips and Frank talking quietly to each other. Frank's hard glare toward Mac made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Becky quietly took her seat behind the reception desk as Harm and Mac crossed to the front door. Sgt. Phillips watched them.

"Anything else you need, Commander?" He asked, then smiled toward Mac. "Colonel?"

"We'll call you if we do," Harm replied, opening the door for Mac.

Inside the SUV, Mac turned to Harm. "What happened in there?"

"When?"

"Between you and Frank?"

"I'm not entirely sure, Mac." He softened his gaze at her, searching her eyes. "Mac, I've still got a weird feeling about things. There's something I can't put my finger on about that family."

"Harm-"

"I know, I know. But there's-"

"Harm!"

"Yeah?"

"I was going to say that I agree with you."

Harm's eyebrow rose. "You were?"

Mac nodded. "Maybe we should have Bud take a look into things."

"Good idea." Harm pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial.

_"Lieutenant Roberts."_

"Bud, it's Harm. I need you to do me a favor. Get me what you can on a Sergeant Marc Phillips with the Cape May New Jersey Police, as well as any relatives of his, including a brother-in-law named Frank from Bayonne, New Jersey and a niece named Rebecca Phillips."

_"No last name for the brother-in-law?"_

"Negative, but his wife's maiden name would be Josephine Phillips. She's from New York."

_"Got it. No problem, sir. I'll let you know what I find."_

"You're the best, Bud."

_"Thank you, sir! Oh, but sir, I can't access the phone records for the police station. Since it's not under official investigation, they aren't releasing any details about it. I'm sorry, sir."_

"That's OK, Bud. Just get me what you can on The Phillips family."

_"Aye, aye, sir."_

Harm clicked his phone shut and sighed. "No joy with the phone records. They won't release them without proper cause." Mac nodded.

"Figures," she murmured, frustrated.

"Hey, why don't we grab a bite to eat and then come up with a game plan?" Harm suggested. "It has been a while since breakfast, and I know how Marines can get without proper nourishment."

Mac smiled, shaking her head. "Oh really?"

"Yeah," Harm said with a smile. "Besides, I hear The Market Cafe serves a great crabcake sandwich."

"The Market Cafe?" Mac was confused. "Why are we going back there?"

"Well," Harm glanced at his Navy-issue watch, "if Kitty Gallagher was correct with her timeline, we should be able to catch Fred Harley on his break."


	5. Chapter 5

Mac opened the door to The Market Cafe and inhaled slowly, regretting going along with Harm's experiment. She wasn't afraid of Fred at all - after all, she was a United States Marine! - but the idea just bothered her. She had no patience for men who thought they could own women like cars, or that thought they deserved women because they were the typical alpha-male type. Seeing a large, burly man at the corner booth who Mac assumed was Fred, judging by the way the waitress smiled as she brought over a refill to his soda, she positioned herself at a table close to the window where she was in viewing distance of Harm, who observed casually outside through a pair of aviators. Mentally, she prayed she wouldn't punch him out before the experiment was over.

As Mac took her seat with her crabcake sandwich and diet cola, she saw Fred stand up and walk over toward her out of the corner of her eye. She actually felt a lot of stares from members of the opposite sex; she assumed the uniform caught their attention. As she swallowed a bite, she saw Fred sit down beside her, straddling a chair backwards and smiling at her.

"Well hello, pretty thing," he said, leaning in toward her. "You're not from around here."

Mac smiled, reminding herself to kick Harm when this was all over. "What makes you say that?" she asked, making sure to add some sweetness to her voice.

"Oh, I'd know if you were, sweetheart," Fred replied, smiling at her. "I'd remember a hot little number like you."

"Well, you're right, I'm not from around here."

"So what's your name, beautiful?"

"Colonel Sarah MacKenzie. Yours?"

"Fred Harley." He grinned at her, leaning toward her ear. "But you can call me whatever you'd like to, Sarah."

"Nice to meet you, Fred," Mac said politely, leaning away from Fred. He laughed.

"Ma'am ... yes, ma'am ..." He licked his lips. "So what's a uniformed gal, looking as fine as you do, doing by yourself here?"

"Who says I'm by myself?"

"Well," Fred looked around, "I certainly don't see anyone around who's got their claim on you."

"That's because I'm not something to be claimed." Mac's voice was thickening with impatience.

"Ooh, a feisty one!" Fred turned around to the two men he was with before. "Hey boys," he called to them, "we got a live one here!" As his friends laughed, he turned back around to Mac. "You know, maybe that's because you've never had the right man before ..." His voice trailed off as he traced his fingers up Mac's arm.

Observing outside, Harm was growing increasingly frustrated. But he knew to wait for the signal. _Stupid, _he thought, as he watched Fred and Mac. It was his idea after all. His right hand formed into a tight fist, ready to use it if necessary.

Inside, Mac was more than capable of taking care of herself. She quickly grabbed Fred's hand, bending his fingers backwards as she had Harm's the night before. "Don't touch me," she warned coldly.

Fred whined in pain. "Owww!" he squealed, and she let him go. He rubbed his hand, glared at her and then back at his friends, who were laughing hysterically at his defeat. Not one to enjoy losing, or being embarrassed, by a woman no less, he grabbed Mac's upper arm and pulled her close to his face. "Ooh, you like it rough, don't you?" he taunted, his eyes wandering up and down her body as she was forced close to his face. "I'd like to get rough with you." Mac tried to pull back, but was unsuccessful as Fred's grip tightened and he pulled her closer, leaning toward her face for a kiss. The stench of alcohol was thick on his breath.

The cafe's door swung open and in a swift moment, Harm had grabbed the back of Fred's collar and yanked him off of Mac. He spun Fred to face him, glaring down at him. He easily had a few inches on him in height, but it still took force to pull him off Mac. Harm's arm raised, his fist prepared to strike. "Don't touch her," he warned, his steely glare piercing. Mac stood, coming to Harm's side.

Fred laughed. "So you aren't alone then, sweetheart." He turned and met eyes with Harm. "You shouldn't leave her alone if you don't want somebody snatching her up," he said coolly.

"You shouldn't bother women who aren't interested," Harm countered, still cold. His fist flexed slightly.

"Maybe she is." Fred looked over at Mac with a smile, then back at Harm. "Maybe she's ready for a real man."

Harm pulled his arm back, ready to strike Fred in the face, but Mac grabbed his extended arm. "Harm, don't ..." she pleaded quietly.

Feeling her, Harm loosened his grip on Fred and slowly lowered his arm. As he let Fred's collar go, he pushed him backward away from Mac. Fred brushed his shirt off once he was free, anger burning in his eyes. Harm reached toward Mac and steered her toward the door, still facing Fred. When he turned to follow her, Fred grabbed his arm. "Where you going, Sailor?" he asked as Harm spun around toward him. Harm shook Fred's grip off of his arm. "Not sticking around?" Fred laughed. "I guess you take orders from your little Marine bitch, huh?"

"Mac, wait outside," Harm continued to glare at Fred as called to Mac, who was close to the door.

"Harm-"

Fred laughed. "So you have to call her 'Mac' like the truck?" Leaning in toward Harm, Fred whispered, "She asked me to call her Sarah." He laughed, licking his lips toward Mac, who was hovering in between the door and Harm.

"MAC! OUTSIDE!" Harm warned, not wanting her to witness what he was about to do. He grabbed Fred's shirt tightly. _Rabb, you idiot, this was YOUR idea!_

"Harm!"

Fred continued to laugh hysterically. Harm's fist raised again, anger burning in his eyes.

"ENOUGH!"

Both men and Mac turned to see Kitty coming out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She put her hands on her hips and frowned at Fred. "Fred, outta here! You've caused enough trouble for one day." She eyed Harm. "As for you, Commander, I suggest you step outside for some fresh air."

Slowly, while still watching each other, both men backed away from each other. Harm grabbed Mac's box of food and left the cafe, meeting Mac outside. He saw Mac's face form a frown and offered her the box of food. She took it and rolled her eyes.

"There goes that line of inquiry," she mumbled, heading toward the car.

Once inside the car, Harm turned to her. "Mac, he put his hands on you!" he protested.

"We knew that was a possibility!"

"I just-couldn't-"

Mac became sympathetic as she saw how frustrated he was while rehashing the event from moments before. She reached over and took his right forearm gently. "It's OK," she said softly. He met her soft brown eyes with his blue ones, still bothered at the memory of what he saw. Jealousy and rage boiled inside of him as he thought about it.

"Well," he said after a brief moment of searching Mac's eyes, "if Kitty Gallagher is right about how Lieutenant Isaac conducted himself with Fred, it gives me more reason to believe he's innocent."

"More?" Mac asked, withdrawing her hand from his arm. "What do you mean?"

"Mac, I wanted to rip that guy's head off back there."

"I thought you might," Mac noted softly.

"Mac, I've dealt with guys like him before. But there was something about him ... Anyway, my point is, if I wanted to hurt him that badly, I'm sure Lieutenant Isaac must have too."

"A testosterone thing?"

"Something like that." _Or maybe it's because it's you he was touching ..._

"So what are you saying?"

"Mac, he was calm with a drunkard who was harassing the woman he cares about. Why would he take it out on an officer he respects? Why not follow Harley to the bar he frequents and strangle _him_ while he's wasted?"

Mac paused. "Maybe it's that whole 'last straw' thing."

"I don't know, Mac, but something's not adding up still."

"You said it gave you_ more_ reason to believe Isaac is innocent."

"Think about it, Mac. Why would Isaac's shoulder board end up in the jetties _across _from where Tanner's body was found?"

"Maybe there was a struggle and then Isaac dumped the body elsewhere."

"But there were no obvious signs of a struggle," Harm noted. "Just a shoulder board in between two jetties about 1000 yards from where the body was found."

"What are you getting at?"

"Mac, even if there was a struggle at the jetties where Isaac's shoulder board was found, why would the board float in one direction and the body in the other?" Harm searched Mac's eyes, as if for an answer inside them. "And why would the body, if it was dumped off the same jetties, float further down-shore than the small shoulder board?"

Mac pondered the question Harm posed, now intrigued herself. "Unless the struggle was on the rocks and somehow the shoulder board fell in between."

"What about the body?" Harm continued. "Where did Isaac get the plastic bag from? Did he just leave the body to go grab one?"

"Maybe he didn't kill him until later that night, when they were in Wildwood."

"And then he transported his body all the way back to the beach he was on hours before? AFTER he had time to cool down from Fred? Besides, his Wildwood alibi checks out. He was there the whole time, until close."

"Maybe he did it after closing time."

Harm frowned. "I still don't like it, Mac."

"So you think someone else is involved?" Mac asked.

Harm nodded slowly. "That's what I'm thinking."

"What do we do now?"

"How about ..." Harm glanced down at the take-out box on Mac's lap, "we go back to The Fairwinds and reheat that for you."

"What about your lunch?"

"I'll eat some leftover pizza in the fridge."

"Why do I get the feeling there's more to this than lunch?"

Harm smiled. "Well, there's always afternoon tea."

"Mister Rabb! Miss MacKenzie!" Marie smiled as she saw the two officers approach the front porch. She was kneeling in a garden bed, armed with garden gloves and a large bucket, pulling out piles of leaves left over from the previous autumn season. "I trust you're enjoying Cape May today?"

"Well, Ma'am," Harm said, "it is a beautiful place. Truth be told, we've got business that keeps us from seeing the sights."

"Ahh," Marie said with understanding. "I'll tell you, though, the Spring Festival is running tomorrow through the weekend. You should really take a tour of the town - all of the spring bulbs are in bloom and they're just so beautiful! There will be tons of vendors in the Washington Mall. Lots of people come out for it."

Mac smiled at Marie. "Perhaps we will, Marie."

Just then, a tall, lanky man with a dark moustache stepped out on the porch. He wore a blue cotton sweater and khaki pants, his thinning brown hair was neatly combed over. "Marie?" he called. He stopped and took notice of Harm and Mac. "Well hello there! You must be Mr. and Mrs. Rabb! Marie keeps talking about you two." He smiled and stuck his hand out to Harm. "I'm Doug, Marie's husband and co-owner of The Fairwinds."

"Pleased to meet you, Doug," Harm said with a smile. "But, uh, the Colonel and I aren't married."

Doug was shaking Mac's hand warmly when he heard Harm's correction. "Oh, forgive me!" he said, slightly embarrassed. "I just thought-"

"Doug!" Marie chided, hands on hips. "This is Harmon Rabb and Sarah MACKENZIE." She emphasized Mac's last name to correct her husband. "They are here on business from Washington."

"Ahh, good ol' DC. I'm a huge fan of the Botanic Garden!"

Mac grinned. "We usually see a different side of Washington."

Doug nodded. "Hopefully you two will get to see our Spring Festival!"

"We hear it's quite the event," Harm said with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Doug."

"You as well, Mr. Rabb! Miss MacKenzie."

Harm and Mac excused themselves and headed inside, up the two antique staircases that led to their room off the landing on the third floor. Harm unlocked the room and tossed his cover on the bureau near the door. Mac sighed, exhausted from the day's events so far. She glanced down at the food in her hand, remembering the microwave was back down on the first floor. "Harm, I'm going to go downstairs to reheat this," she said with a sigh, not treasuring the trip back down - or up.

"Want me to get it?" Harm asked, noticing her tired look.

Mac shook her head. "I'll need the exercise if I'm planning on eating these fries."

Mac left the room, container in hand, and Harm flopped down on the bed. He glanced toward the large bathroom where the mini fridge - and his pizza - were. _Cold pizza sounds fine to me, _he thought, too tired to make the trip Mac had made. Sitting up from the bed, he made his way to the mini fridge, pausing as he opened the door. He could swear he heard voices outside the half-open bathroom window. _Odd, _Harm thought, _we're on the third floor. _The voices sounded like they were coming from behind the bathroom, which meant on the roof. He listened closely, leaning toward the open window as a spring breeze gently carried the sounds through its screen.

"Yes, sir. ... I've got it. ... No, sir. No issues. ... Uh-huh. ... They won't be a problem. ... Of course. ... I can handle it. ... No, you don't need Larry to-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir!"

Harm jumped at the sound of the maid's voice and accidentally smacked his head on the top of the window seat cutout where he was listening through the window. She was standing in the bathroom doorway, a bottle of cleaner and rag in hand. "I'm sorry!" she apologized through a thick German accent. "I didn't know you were in the room!"

"It's OK," Harm said, rubbing his head. "Did you knock?"

"Yes, sir!" the maid said, nodding her head furiously. "No answer, so I come in to clean. I'm so-"

"It's OK!" Harm said, with a big smile to reassure her. The maid nodded and scrambled to gather her supplies.

"I leave now, yes?" She hurried and dumped everything in her cart and scurried out of the room. Closing the door behind her, Harm sighed. He went back to the window to see if he could hear anything more from the voice. It sounded an awful lot like Frank. In fact, he was almost 100% sure it was his voice. As he listened, he could only hear the soft melody of song birds and the mumbled chatter of people walking down the streets.

"Harm?"

Holding his injured head, he came out of the bathroom. "Hey, Mac."

Mac's eyes widened. "What happened? Are you OK?"

"Yeah, just got too close to the ceiling." Harm flashed his trademark smile at Mac, then winced as he rubbed his head too hard. Mac dropped her warmed food on the coffee table near the sofa and crossed to him, pulling his neck down so she could examine his head.

"I guess that's not too hard for you to do in this room," she remarked. She felt his injury with her fingers. A red spot was visible, but she didn't feel any-

"Oww!" Harm moaned as her fingers prodded the wrong spot. Mac met his eyes apologetically.

"Sorry."

"It's alright," Harm said, gently pulling away from her. "I'm fine."

Mac glanced past his shoulder into the bathroom and noted the ceilings were approximately ten feet high. "So how did you hit your head?"

"On the window seat."

"Ahh."

Slipping behind him into the bathroom, Mac went to the sink and ran the cold water, soaking a hand towel thoroughly. She brought it out to Harm, who smiled at her and pressed it against his head. "Thanks."

"Sure."

Mac went to the couch and opened her box of steaming french fries and a half-eaten crabcake sandwich. She took a bite, grateful for the invention of microwaves. Though, had Fred Harley not been there, she would've been able to enjoy this local treat the first time around.

"Mac, I think I hear voices."

Her mouth full of half-chewed food, Mac paused and looked up at Harm. He had a scowl on his face as he stared out the window behind the couch she was sitting on. "Maybe you hit your head harder than you think ..." Mac was concerned; she hoped Harm didn't get a concussion.

Harm shook his head. "No, no ... I mean behind the bathroom. Someone on a cell phone. I think it's Frank."

"Harm ... we're on the third floor."

"I know, but it sounded like it was coming from outside the wall!"

"Maybe there's a balcony in the room he's staying in?"

"It sounded really close."

Harm discarded the wet towel he was holding on his head onto the bureau and opened the door to their room, peering outside. When he disappeared, Mac tossed her unfinished sandwich in the box and wiped her hands. "Guess I won't finish lunch after all ..."

Mac stepped outside the Greenwich, looking first right - only one other room door that direction, plus the staircase - then left. She noticed a small hallway, which she didn't the night prior or this morning. _A storage closet, maybe?_ Yes, she saw a door for that. But the hall continued a few more steps until it reached a period-style door with a brass knob. Since she didn't see Harm, she assumed he went through already. She could feel the warm sunlight baking through the privacy glass pane. _I didn't know we had a deck up here ... bet Harm didn't either. _

As she quietly opened the door, Mac peered out into the open space. It was a small, but inviting deck that seemed to extend around the side of the third floor toward where Harm had said he heard Frank's voice coming from. _Well, at least he's not seriously injured. _She took a soft step down onto the deck, but before she could even think, a strong pair of hands grabbed her from behind, pulling her back against a corner and covering her mouth all at the same time. She gasped, her mouth covered, startled. She fought to see her assailant, only to find it was Harm. "Shhh ..." he whispered in her ear, peering over her head as if he could see around the corner.

"Mmphft-"

"Shhh!"

Mac inhaled and exhaled dramatically, showing her disgust. Harm kept his large hand clamped over Mac's mouth, afraid she'd give their location away. He tuned his ear toward where he had heard the voice coming from before. He couldn't hear anything now. _Damn, _he thought, _he's gone now. _His first inclination was to release Mac, who was pressed up against his body, his arms tight around her waist, spooning her. His second thought was to go around and see if Frank left anything behind, but he knew that it was pretty useless of a task. His immediate third thought was how warm Mac's body was and how good her lotion smelled when he was this close to her ...

"Hrmmmmm!"

Harm released his hand from over Mac's mouth and she sighed. "Harm, what are you doing?" she asked in a strong whisper.

"Mac, I think I heard Frank on the balcony over there," he replied in an equal voice.

"So?"

"I just get a funny feeling about him, Mac. He's trying to hide something."

"Harm, he's probably more suspicious of us ... I mean, we are kinda out of place here."

"Still, I don't know ... I feel like he knows something we don't." His instincts were very strong - but he had nothing else other than them to corroborate with his position on Frank's involvement.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Mac shifted her weight slightly, still encased by Harm's embrace. "But do you think you could let me go now?"

Harm's grip loosened and he let her free, somewhat reluctantly. "Sorry," he murmured. She stepped away from him and put her hands on her hips.

"So he's acting weird. Bud's pulling the info, we'll find anything we need to on him. Maybe he's just a curious old man." She sighed, not fully agreeing with Harm's instinct.

"I don't like it, Mac."

"I know you don't," she replied, rolling her eyes. Her stomach grumbled, teased by the half-finished sandwich back in their room on the coffee table. "I'm going back in. You should eat something too."

Harm nodded reluctantly, knowing he had to keep to his schedule too. "It is almost time for tea anyway."

Inside their room, Mac asked through bites of her sandwich, "So why tea?"

"See what we can dig up from Josephine," Harm replied, chewing on cold pizza. "Before we came into the dining room this morning, I heard Josephine comment about today's afternoon tea and how she was looking forward to 'relaxing without Frank around.'"

"Where's Frank going?"

"Fishing. With Sergeant Phillips."

Mac nodded, understanding Harm's game plan fully. "So tea is really for me, then?"

Harm nodded, confirming. "While you're with her, I'm gonna go to the station to see what I can find out."

Mac frowned. She knew Harm would be able to swing getting what he wanted, or at least access to certain areas, because of Rebecca Phillips. "I'm sure Rebecca Phillips won't mind the company," she remarked with a hint of jealousy.

"Mac, she's not my type. Besides, this is about digging dirt up on her uncle, not flirting with her."

"You're right, I forgot. She's not blonde."

Harm's eyes narrowed. "What's that suppose to mean?"

Mac regretted the comment as soon as it came out. She hadn't meant it to - it was more of an internal thought externalized. She decided to ignore his question and continue eating sipping her soda, giving Harm the "You-Know-What-I-Mean" look.

"It's not like that, Mac." Harm focused on her intensely. "It's not that way for me."

Mac stared back at him, confused by the subtext she thought he was implying. "You mean to tell me you don't find her attractive at all?" she challenged.

"Not like I do with-" Harm stopped himself short. "-with someone I'd want to be with."

Mac hadn't realized she was holding her breath during their moment of silence until her cell phone ringer pierced the air. She quickly dug it out of her uniform pocket and answered it without checking the caller ID. "Colonel MacKenzie."

_"Sarah, it's James." _

"James ... hi ..." She looked up toward Harm, who looked away quickly, as if burned by the sound of her voice saying his name.

_"Are you free this weekend? I have that contact information you needed, and I thought I could give it to you over dinner."_

"I-I'm not really sure. I'm on a case right now, and I'm not sure when we're wrapping up at this point."

_"Look, if you don't want the information, I understand ..."_

"No, no, I do." Mac looked down, embarrassed with how the conversation sounded without Harm knowing the full story.

_"Then I can take you out to Montclair's for a nice night of dining and dancing. How does Saturday at seven sound?"_

"That sounds great," she said softly.

_"I'll pick you up. Then I'll give you the information at dinner."_

"OK, James."

_"Wear something you can dance the night away in, Sarah."_

"I-I ... will."

_Talk soon._

Mac hung up her cell phone and looked up to Harm, who was sitting with his back toward her on the bed. She chewed on her bottom lip as she tried to figure out how to break the silence. However, Harm did it for her. "Mac, I'm gonna head to the station." His voice was good at masking his true feelings - especially when he had his back to her. "See what I can find." He stood and looked over his shoulder at her, catching her eyes. Her lips parted as she tried to make the words come out, but she failed to say anything, let alone explain who James was, why he was calling her so frequently and why it sounded like she was dating him when she was not. He turned and left the room, putting his cover on his head and he slipped out the door.

"Guess I'll get changed for a tea party," she mumbled with a sigh.


	6. Chapter 6

Ten minutes later, Mac found herself on the warm front porch of The Fairwinds, sitting in a wicker rocking chair, sipping a cup of Earl Gray. Her blue floral skirt's hem danced gently in the spring breeze. She sighed as she felt the sun's bright rays on her face; it felt so good to use some of the civvies she packed, especially this skirt and her short-sleeved scoop neck blue sweater that hugged and skimmed her hourglass curves like a glove. Over the arm of her chair was her denim jacket, in case she got chilly.

"Sarah! I didn't hardly recognize you! You look lovely."

Josephine smiled at her as she stepped on the porch, donning a wide-brimmed straw hat. Mac smiled at her.

"Hello and thank you, Josephine."

Josephine poured herself a cup of tea from the pot on the tea cart stationed on the porch, dropped a sugar cube in it and took a seat two chairs away from Mac. "Finally getting to enjoy some quiet time on your trip?" she asked, stirring her sugar cube in her teacup.

"I wanted to take advantage of the beautiful weather today," Mac said, gazing out toward the street where people were busy milling around.

"It is a lovely day." Josephine looked over at Mac. "Where's your friend Harmon?"

Mac met Josephine's gaze. "He wanted to take a drive to the Naval Air Museum. He's a tomcat pilot himself, so he loves a good plane exhibit."

"Ahh, I see. Well, hopefully he's enjoying himself there." Josephine's voice had a slight amount of hesitation in it, but she brushed it off with a smile.

Both women quietly sipped their tea. Mac allowed Josephine space; she knew the best way for the woman to open up was for her to feel comfortable around her. "Know of any good shopping in the area?" Mac asked. "I'm always looking for a pair of comfortable shoes."

"The nearest establishment worth anything for clothing is probably in The Lincoln Mall. An hour north." Josephine laughed. "Although, you and I probably have different ideas of what comfort is." She eyed Mac's cotton closed-toe espadrille wedges that buckled around her slim ankles with a smile.

Mac laughed softly. "Perhaps."

"So tell me, Sarah," Josephine said daringly, "are you and Harmon involved?" Mac almost choked on her tea as she sipped it, but just shook her head. Josephine continued. "Well, that's a shame. He's a fine looking man. Seems very intelligent, too."

"He is," Mac finally replied, swallowing her tea. "He's JAG's best lawyer."

"Is he, now?" Josephine seemed to be more like thinking out loud than replying to Mac's testimony of Harm's intellect. "I'm sure he has moments of distraction every now and then, though." She eyed Mac's attire. "It's no wonder they keep you in that drab uniform. I'm sure there wouldn't be a lot of work happening in the office if not!"

Mac smiled politely at her compliment, but inside she questioned Josephine's motive. _Maybe Harm's just made me unnecessarily on edge with these people. He can be a little quick to jump the gun ... _"Thank you," she said softly, not knowing how to respond. The older woman smiled.

"I'm sure Harmon would say the same about your intelligence if I asked him," Josephine said idly. "It seems like you two are ... connected, on a deeper level."

"We have been partners for six years."

"Hmm, that might explain things."

_Wait, when did this become about me? _Mac decided to take the conversational reigns. "So, Josephine, you are down visiting family, correct?"

"Yes, we're visiting my baby brother Marc. He's a Sergeant with the police here."

"We had the pleasure of meeting him and your niece Rebecca last evening."

"I did hear as much from Frank."

There was a long pause of silence. "Commander Rabb said that your brother and Frank were out fishing this afternoon?" Mac glanced over at Josephine, who continued to gaze toward the road.

"Yes, down at the Rips," she replied. "Striped bass is the goal ... though knowing Marc and Frank the way I do, they'll end up with more seaweed than fish." She laughed softly. "Men are amazing creatures." She turned and looked Mac in the eyes. "Some of them just never accept 'no' for an answer."

Mac's lips parted slightly. There was suggestion in Josephine's voice that she just couldn't ignore, no matter how she tried to justify it. "No," she replied slowly, "I suppose some of them can't."

Josephine turned her body back toward the street, watching the people pass by. "You know, Sarah, you seem like an intelligent lawyer yourself. Tell me, how does a woman become a Colonel at such a young age?" She peered back over at Mac, whose hand gripped her teacup more firmly than necessary.

"Hard work, Ma'am," she replied coolly, understanding the implication Josephine was making.

"I'm sure," was Josephine's unimpressed reply.

"You don't believe a woman can excel in the world without a man's favor?"

"I've been in the world a lot longer than you, my dear." Josephine sipped her tea. "I know that a woman with beauty such as yours could have anything she wanted, if she knew how to play her cards right."

"The same woman can also use her intellect instead of her body to achieve what she wants." Mac's eyes narrowed, trying to figure out where Josephine was headed with this conversation.

"In an idealistic world." Josephine sighed. "Women have been fighting that for decades."

"And many have succeeded."

"Still, there's inequality in the workplace, as you must know." Josephine again turned and looked squarely at Mac. "For example, take Harmon Rabb. Are you sure he's not out still investigating to try to gain an edge on your case? To make your commanding officer think he did more than you?"

Mac's eyebrow raised. "Who said we were investigating anything?"

Josephine smiled. "Darling, it's all over town. Rumors. Besides, Marc being my brother, we knew anyway. I'm sure you and Harmon just didn't want to alarm anyone at breakfast unnecessarily."

"Commander Rabb and I work as a team," was Mac's cool reply.

"I see. Then I suppose you and Harmon rely on each other a great deal."

"You could say that."

Again, there was a long pause as the two women sat on the porch. After a while, Josephine stood, placing her empty cup on the tea cart. "It really was lovely chatting with you, Sarah," she said, smiling warmly toward Mac. "But I really must retire from the sun. Don't want to risk any more wrinkles."

Mac smiled and nodded, watching Josephine as she headed inside. _Weird. Maybe Harm was right after all ... _Mac couldn't get a grip on what her instinct was trying to tell her - the chatter she heard inside her mind sounded like a large murmuring of different voices, all shouting different opinions.

A cool spring breeze convinced her that her denim jacket might not be such a bad addition to her ensemble. As she slipped it on, her cell phone rang and buzzed inside the small purse she brought with her on the porch. "Colonel MacKenzie."

_"Colonel, this is Captain Strickland, at the Cape May Coast Guard station." _

"What's wrong, Captain?"

_"Well, Colonel, it appears that Lieutenant Isaac has escaped."_

Mac's mouth dropped open. "How long ago?"

_"Within the last hour or so."_

"Have you contacted the local police?"

_"Yes. We've notified NCIS. They are sending a team out ASAP."_

"How did he escape?"

_"There was an incident involving a local woman, which took the guards away from their watch. My guess is, he took advantage of the opportunity. The Lieutenant is very skilled in hand-to-hand combat."_

"I'll notify Commander Rabb. Captain, please keep me informed of any progress on this situation."

_"I will, but Colonel, be advised ... we have reason to believe that he is armed."_

1521 hours

As Mac climbed the stairs to The Greenwich, he furiously hit the speed dial on her cell phone for Harm's number.

_"This is Commander Harmon Rabb-"_

"UGH!" she groaned as she listened to the voicemail recording again. She had called him twice prior with no luck reaching him. "Harm, turn on your phone!" she complained as she listened to Harm's voice on the recording. She pulled out her key from her purse and unlocked the room's door. At the beep, she began to leave her message. "Harm, this is Mac. Call me ASAP. Lieutenant Isaac escaped over an hour ago. There was a diversion created by a local woman near the station and Captain Strickland said he thinks he escaped then. They've notified NCIS. Harm, Captain Strickland thinks he may be armed-"

Mac's purse, room key and cell phone crashed to the floor as a large hand grabbed her roughly from behind. Just as quickly as she was grabbed, another large hand covered her mouth. Only this time, in it was a cloth soaked in chloroform. Mac's muffled struggle was the last thing that was recorded on the message before she passed out into her assailant's arms.

1705 hours

Harm sighed deeply. He hadn't had much success with the plan he formed to try to discover evidence against the Phillips family. In fact, it seemed like a dead end, unlike he had expected. Becky hadn't been as forthcoming as before ... in fact, Harm noted that her behavior had changed dramatically since earlier that afternoon when she had come in for her shift. Still, she was willing to let Harm review the file Sergeant Phillips had made on the Tanner case. He poured over it for a while, asking Becky if he could use her uncle's office to make a phone call. He held up his cell phone, claiming the battery had died. He had shut off to avoid blowing his cover. He needed to gain access to Marc Phillips' office somehow. He just knew there was a big piece of the puzzle missing.

Lucky for him, Becky seemed relatively cooperative, since she let him use the office. Harm noticed she seem distracted, as if she wasn't thinking straight. Using it to his advantage, Harm had Becky make several copies of documents he really didn't need down the hall in another room, just to keep her occupied. As she did, he searched Phillips' office and checked his emails, voicemail and anything else he could think of. Still, it produced nothing. He began to search Rebecca's desk, trying to find any little piece of the puzzle that he could. Finally, after searching through a stack of papers, he found a 646-area code phone number scratched on a small torn piece of paper. No name. Harm quickly had jotted it down, figuring he'd have Bud run the number to see who it belonged to. That was all he came up with.

As he pulled out of the parking lot of the police department, he turned back on his cell phone. He had four missed calls, two voicemails. Harm dialed his voicemail and put the phone to his ear. The first message was from Bud.

_"Sir, I found some information you requested on the Phillips family. I am due in court at fifteen hundred hours, but call me when you get this and I will let you know what I found."_

Harm erased the message, then hit the callback feature of his phone to dial Bud's number, without checking the other missed calls first.

_"Lieutenant Roberts."_

"Bud, it's Harm."

_"Hello, sir. I wasn't able to find anything on Marc Phillips. But I did confirm that Rebecca Phillips' mother and father died in a car accident in 1994. But, as it turns out, Eric Phillips, the father, was a known associate of Gary Boone."_

"The drug ring leader?"

_"Yes, sir. Gary Boone is on the FBI's Most Wanted List for smuggling and selling exorbitant amounts of cocaine and heroine. He's one of the ones the Feds have been trying to pin for years, but haven't had any luck. Slips in between the cracks every time. But sir, here's the interesting part - Rebecca's parents' deaths came just three days after Eric Phillips was set to testify against Boone in his trial in August 1993. Rebecca was staying with Marc and his late wife Susan in Cape May at the time."_

"Interesting. So Eric, knowing the danger he was in, sent Rebecca away. Probably couldn't convince his wife to go, too. So it might not have been a real accident after all."

_"It certainly seems that way, sir."_

"What about the brother-in-law, Frank?"

_"I couldn't find anything out of the ordinary on him, sir. A few parking tickets, but that's__about it."_

Harm pulled the phone number from his pocket. "Good work, Bud. Hey, Bud, run this number for me, would you? 646-555-1000. I think it may just help connect the dots."

_"Will do, sir."_

Harm hung up the phone, pondering over the newly acquired information. Harm feared that the Phillips' family's connection to Gary Boone meant they were in something deeper all together than he initially realized. He looked back down at his phone and saw the next three missed calls - and one voicemail left at fifteen twenty-three - all from Mac.

_"Harm, this is Mac. Call me ASAP. Lieutenant Isaac has escaped. There was a diversion created by a local woman near the station and Captain Strickland said he thinks he escaped then. They've notified NCIS. Harm, Captain Strickland thinks he may be armed-"_

As he played the final message, his heart stopped and his jaw clenched. "Mac?" he yelled on the phone as he listened to her struggle. In a flash and without thinking, he whipped his SUV back around in the direction of the police station. He floored the accelerator, his better judgment blinded by rage and fury. He had wanted to believe that Isaac wasn't responsible for Tanner's death, but it was obvious that Isaac had panicked over guilt and kidnapped Mac as collateral, perhaps to even try to convince them to clear his name. As he sped into the police station lot, Harm saw both Frank and Sergeant Phillips getting out of a large pick-up truck that was transporting fishing gear. Harm slammed on the brakes as he pulled in, throwing the car in park and flying out of the vehicle.

"Sergeant!" he yelled as he crossed the lot to where Sgt. Phillips was. "Where is he?"

"Calm down, Commander!" Sgt. Phillips said, turning to Harm. Frank's face expressed worry. "Tell us what you're talking about!" Sgt. Phillips squinted at Harm as the evening sun blazed in his eyes.

"He's got Colonel MacKenzie!" Harm shouted, pacing like a caged tiger. Sgt. Phillips and Frank exchanged a look.

"Who does?"

"Lieutenant Isaac!"

"Lieutenant Isaac?" Sgt. Phillips was clearly confused. "I thought you detained him?"

"Colonel MacKenzie was leaving me a message about Isaac escaping when she was taken abruptly," Harm replied.

"Damnit! ... Don't worry, Commander, we'll find her."

Harm's jaw tightened. He inhaled deeply, anger uncontrollably raging inside him. He should have stayed with Mac. He should have known Isaac was guilty all along. He should have trusted her judgment. He should have-

"Commander," Marc said, "come inside. It won't do us any good to try to figure this out from the parking lot. I'll have some of the boys go to The Fairwinds to see if they can find anything useful." His voice was soft, filled with concern.

"I'm going there myself," Harm said firmly, turning back to his car.

Sgt. Phillips grabbed his keys out of his pocket. "Then I'm going too, Commander." The Sergeant rushed to his police car and sent a dispatch through the radio to his units that were already out on patrol.

Harm paused for a second to see Sgt. Phillips climb into his police vehicle and Frank climb back into the pick-up. He jumped in his car, turned it on and threw the car into drive, Sgt. Phillips' police lights and sirens blaring behind him.

The yellow caution tape that littered the entrance to the once pleasant Greenwich served as a sickening reminder to Harm of how his partner - and best friend - was in the hands of a trained killer. Police officers cluttered the room, searching for fingerprints or any other evidence they could find. Feeling trapped, useless and nauseous, Harm paced the small length of the floor in front of the double windows near the couch. Glancing down, he saw Mac's cover on the coffee table. He picked it up, tracing the outline of the oak leaf that was pinned tightly on it.

"Sir, you should be wearing gloves!" one of the young police officers exclaimed, appalled at Harm's carelessness. Harm shot him a long, hard glare, still fingering the cover almost reverently.

Sgt. Phillips stepped to Harm's side and touched his forearm. "Commander, we need to make sure we don't contaminate any evidence. Perhaps you should wait outside ..." Harm was a million miles away as he nodded, gently setting Mac's cover back down on the coffee table. Harm reached into his bag, despite the protests of the young officer, and pulled out his Navy issue sweater. "We'll call you if we find anything," Sgt. Phillips added as Harm slowly left the room.

Outside the room, Harm stood silent, his hands on his hips. He looked left and saw the small hallway that led to the wrap around balcony. Figuring some fresh air would do him well, he stepped outside into the dusky early evening air. Still holding on to the sweater he took from their room, he stood beside the balcony's railing and gazed over the property. The air had a nip to it, so he removed his standard khaki shirt and replaced it with the sweater. As he pulled it over his face, he swore he could smell some of Mac's perfume in the fibers. _Rabb, you're going crazy. _

There was so much he wanted to do, but felt helpless in doing it. He wanted to get into his car and just drive until he found her. But he knew that it was useless. Unless they had a lead, all he would be doing was going insane over searching blindly for her. He knew she was in civvies, which would make it more difficult to find witnesses to remember seeing her, since he didn't know what she was wearing. He knew she didn't have her cell phone, since it was lying on the ground next to the bed near the entrance to the room, along with the room key and her small purse, the contents of which were also scattered on the hardwood. He knew she had no dog tags on her, since they were laid right next to her cover on the coffee table. But that's all he knew of Mac's situation.

Harm's head dropped as he tried to find a connection, an answer somewhere in the midst of all the puzzle pieces. Mac had to be a bargaining chip. But why? Isaac had panicked and escaped. How? _A diversion created by a local woman near the station... a local woman. A local woman. She didn't say who. A local woman. Coast Guard station. Assistance. Local woman-_ Harm's head shot up, his eyes wild. "... Rebecca."

"REBECCA!"

Harm's voice was a little louder than necessary as he barged back into the Greenwich. Sgt. Phillips looked up from the floor where he was squatted down.

"Commander?" he asked, confused.

"On the message, Mac said a local woman caused a diversion, which could have distracted Lieutenant Isaac long enough to escape." Harm's eyes searched Sgt. Phillips' desperately. Sgt. Phillips stood, leveling with Harm.

"Now hold on just a minute!" His voice was angry. "Are you accusing Becky of aiding a suspect in escape?"

"Hear me out," Harm said, rushing through his words. "What if all Rebecca wanted to do was be with Isaac?"

"They broke up!"

"Did they? Then why, after their supposed breakup, did Rebecca call Lieutenant Isaac from the station's phone?"

"How did you-"

"Sergeant, Rebecca was late coming in for her shift tonight."

"So?"

"Even you said it was uncharacteristic of her."

"Well, she is usually right on time ..."

"Sergeant, I visited her this afternoon, to review the case file. She seemed very distracted. Uneasy. Tense." Harm searched Sgt. Phillips' eyes. "Sergeant," Harm pleaded, "you discouraged their relationship from the beginning."

Marc glanced downward, then his head shot back up. "Well I'm damn sure glad I did! The bastard killed someone!"

"Sergeant, listen to me!" Harm grabbed the Sergeant's upper arms firmly. "Rebecca cared about him. To someone in love, it may not matter to her. When a person truly wants to be with someone ..." Harm's voice trailed off, his eyes resting on Mac's cover and dog tags, "... you'd do anything to be with them." The silence between them was thick and heavy. "Sergeant, she may know more than we think," Harm said in a voice little above a whisper, still pleading.

Sgt. Phillips inhaled deeply. "Alright, Commander. We'd better hurry, though. Her shift is done in ten minutes."

1957 hours

Harm rode back to the station with Sgt. Phillips, praying Rebecca would be the link they needed to find Mac. He couldn't blame Rebecca for aiding Lt. Isaac; he knew she cared for him. To what lengths he'd go for the person he cared about, he wasn't sure, but Harm had a feeling he was going to soon find out.

Harm's cell phone rang and he quickly answered. "Rabb."

It was Bud. _"Sir, I ran the number you gave me. It's a cell phone that belongs to a guy named Larry Strickland and it's in the Brooklyn, New York area code range."_

"Brooklyn?" Harm asked softly, glancing over at Sgt. Phillips; Harm saw Sgt. Phillips glance over at him at the mention of the city. "Thanks Bud."

_"You're welcome, Sir. Sir ... are you OK?"_

"I'm fine, Lieutenant. Thank you."

He closed the phone shut, swallowing deeply. Sgt. Phillips' looked over at Harm. "You're not calling NCIS?" he asked.

"They've already been contacted."

"Funny ..." Sgt. Phillips thought out loud. "Wonder why they didn't show up to the scene yet?"

Harm's eyebrow rose as he thought about the Sergeant's question. He hadn't given it much thought until now. "I'm sure they'll be here soon," he replied, beginning to feel skeptical about his own statement.

Minutes later, they arrived at the station. Harm jumped out of the car before Sgt. Phillips put it in park; he rushed to the door with intensity. He could see Rebecca's silhouette, as well as that of another person. A male. The same size as-

"Lieutenant Isaac!" he exclaimed after throwing the door open. Both the Lieutenant and Rebecca whirled around, shocked to see Harm there. They were holding hands; Harm saw the keys in Rebecca's hands. Rebecca gasped as Harm grabbed Isaac into a painful arm lock behind his back, grabbing his hair and pulling his face toward him from behind. "WHERE IS SHE?" Harm screamed in Isaac's face, burning with rage.

Lt. Isaac was terrified. "Who, sir?" he pleaded.

"COLONEL MACKENZIE! WHERE IS SHE?"

"I-I don't know, sir!"

"You'd better tell me RIGHT NOW where the hell she is, Lieutenant, or I swear to God I'll rip your head off!"

"Sir, I don't know! I was laying low after I left! Becky and I were going to figure out a plan to-"

"LIEUTENANT! TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!"

"Commander!" Sgt. Phillips yelled, trying to force Harm of Lt. Isaac. Harm pushed him away and continued to hold Lt. Isaac. Rebecca stood to the side in shock and fear as she watched.

"Uncle Marc, he doesn't know what he's talking about!" she pleaded with her uncle, grabbing his arm.

"Becky, what the hell do you think you're doing, breaking him out?" Sgt. Phillips was angry with his niece.

"I didn't break him out! Besides, he didn't do anything wrong!" she argued.

"He killed someone, Becky!"

"No, he didn't! I believe him!"

"Becky ..."

"TELL ME NOW, LIEUTENANT!" Harm yelled in Lt. Isaac's ear; Lt. Isaac yelled in pain as Harm bent his arms backward and higher. "WHERE IS SHE?"

"Sir, I don't know where she is!" Lt. Isaac pleaded for Harm to listen.

Rebecca grabbed her uncle's arm. "Please, Uncle Marc, he didn't do anything! We were going to get away together, Chris and me ... he was with me since Commander Rabb left!" Sgt. Phillips looked down at Rebecca, who's eyes frantically searched her uncle's. "Please!" she begged, her voice trembling.

"Commander, let him go!" Sgt. Phillips grabbed the back of Harm's sweater, using it as leverage to pull Harm off of Lt. Isaac. Harm resisted, but released Lt. Isaac, who stumbled away from Harm from the force of his release. Rebecca ran up to Lt. Isaac, taking hold of him.

Harm was breathing deeply, still enraged. Sgt. Phillips held on to him, sensing Harm was not fully convinced Rebecca was telling the truth. "Why the hell did you break out, Lieutenant?" Harm asked, his voice cold.

"I-I didn't break out, sir!"

"The hell you didn't!" Harm began to charge after Lt. Isaac. Sgt. Phillips grabbed him and pulled him back. Harm stood restrained for a few moments and regained his temper. He shook Sgt. Phillips off of him and put his hands on his hips, breathing deeply. "What do you mean, you didn't break out?"

"I was released, sir." Lt. Isaac was shaking, breathing heavily.

"By who?" Harm had calmed a little, curious to hear what Isaac was going to say.

"By ... Colonel MacKenzie, sir."


	7. Chapter 7

Harm's eyes grew wide. "Colonel MacKenzie released you?"

"Y-y-yes, sir. She came in and gave the orders to. Said I was free to return to duty. She-" Lt. Isaac looked at Harm, nervously. "-She had paperwork and everything, s-sir." His lips trembled as he spoke.

"When did she release you?" Harm asked, his breathing quickening.

"At around sixteen forty, sir."

"Sixteen forty?" Harm's face tightened into a knot as he heard the time. "Lieutenant, her message to me of your escape was from fifteen twenty-three. She said you escaped over an hour prior."

It was Lt. Isaac's turn to look confused. "Sir, I was released at sixteen forty, sir. I came straight here afterwards, since my CO sent me home for the evening." He blinked slowly. "Sir, Colonel MacKenzie said I was wrongly accused. That's why she was releasing me."

"You saw her?" Harm asked softly.

"Y-yes, sir."

"What was she wearing?"

"... Sir?"

"What was she wearing, Lieutenant?"

"Um ... she was out of uniform, Sir. She was wearing a blue skirt, a sweater and a jacket, sir."

Harm's mind raced as she tried to establish the timeline. She had left the message over an hour after Lt. Isaac said he had been released by the same woman who clearly was taken hostage. She had received the phone call of Lt. Isaac's escape just prior to leaving her message to Harm. She was wearing civilian clothing, which meant it was after he left their room for the station. It didn't make sense. Lt. Isaac was lying. "You're lying!" he yelled, charging after Lt. Isaac again. Sgt Phillips failed to hold on to Harm, who grabbed Lt. Isaac's shirt roughly and held him. "WHERE IS SHE?"

"Sir, I didn't-"

"WAIT!"

Harm and Lt. Isaac turned at Rebecca's plea. "What time is fifteen twenty-three?" She asked, her eyes searching Harm's.

"Three twenty-three," Harm replied, unsure of what Rebecca was trying to figure out.

"And you said Colonel MacKenzie said Chris broke out an hour or so before that?" Rebecca asked. Harm nodded. "Commander," Rebecca said regretfully, "I was near the station around then."

Harm's mouth opened. "What were you doing there?" he asked, still holding on to Lt. Isaac.

"I ..." Rebecca glanced over at her uncle, who stared at her with disappointment. "I was trying to see Chris."

"So you did break him out?" Harm yelled.

"No!" Rebecca quickly replied. "I couldn't see him. They wouldn't let me." She looked down. "That's why I was late coming into the station for my shift. I argued pretty bad about being allowed to see him, but they wouldn't let me."

Harm slowly released Lt. Isaac. "Who wouldn't, Captain Strickland?"

"No ..." Rebecca's brows wrinkled. "That wasn't his name. It was Captain Jones."

Harm stepped to the corner of the room for a moment, lowering his head and rubbing his temples. "Either you are a good liar, Lieutenant, or ..." He looked up at Lt. Isaac. "... Or you're telling the truth." Harm shook his head and turned to Sgt. Phillips. "Mac was kidnapped. I know she was. So who took her?"

"I believe I can help you with that," said another voice from the shadows.

2235 hours

_Mac. Dark. Cold. Mac. Thirsty. Pain. Mac. Head. Heavy. Hurts. Mac._

He couldn't formulate a coherent thought. Everything he felt was broken up into fragments. His eyes slowly opened, his lids fighting his attempt at consciousness. He had no idea where he was. Day, night - he didn't know. His head throbbed severely and all he could feel was _... wet. Something wet. My head_. When his eyes fully opened, he focused on willing his hand to reach up and touch his forehead_. Sticky_. He withdrew his fingers from his wound_. Blood_. He felt every muscle in his body work against his attempts to sit up straight. His legs dragged into place as he slowly stood, trying to see something in the darkness that he was surrounded by.

His eyes snapped back shut as the blaring of the overhead fluorescent light glared suddenly on, blinding Harm temporarily. As his vision adjusted, he slowly groped the wall for support, his head heavy and dizzy. Looking around through half open eyes, he realized he was in a large back room of the station he'd never seen before. He heard footsteps approach him; Harm tried to focus on who was approaching him, finally making eye contact with the man who had knocked him out.

"Frank," he breathed, glaring at him.

Frank's arms were crossed over him chest. He peered at Harm, taking note of his injury. "Commander ... you should have cooperated. Those are some nasty injuries you've got there."

"Where are the others?" Harm demanded, wincing as he tried to grab Frank. He felt a pain searing through his right shoulder. He stepped back from Frank slowly, reaching to touch his shoulder. He remembered his initial rage when he saw Frank before the fight that led to his being knocked unconscious. He remembered racing toward him, his fears confirmed that the older man was involved in their case. He also remembered being restrained by at least one other man as Frank and another man he didn't know beat him.

"Right over there," Frank said, gesturing toward the opposite side of the room. "They cooperated." Harm saw Sgt. Phillips, Lt. Isaac and Rebecca huddled on the ground near Sgt. Phillips.

"And the rest of the officers?"

"Out patrolling, per Sergeant Phillips." He smiled toward the Sergeant. "He's a great actor when he needs to be, you know."

Harm's jaw flexed as his anger burned. He thought of Mac. "Where is she, Frank?"

"Who, Sarah?" Frank replied, taking a few steps away from Harm, not feeling threatened by Harm in the least. "She's elsewhere, Commander."

"WHERE?" Harm demanded, trying to charge at Frank. He couldn't figure out why he wasn't as strong as he usually was until Frank gave him a right hook to the face, sending him crumpled to the ground. It was then, on the ground, that Harm noticed a fresh needle puncture in his right arm. He remembered before he was knocked out that he struggled with Frank and another man, then he felt the prick of a needle before his world went black. _A sedative, most likely. _"If you hurt her, I swear to God I'll-"

"Relax, Commander," Frank said with a laugh. "She's fine." Frank looked down at Harm, who struggled to stand back up. "Though, I will say she's quite the little fighter." He leaned down to Harm, taunting him with smile. "It took a little while, but we made her cooperate."

Harm sprang up from the ground from pure adrenaline, grabbing Frank's shirt. He turned and threw him against the wall, connecting his fist to Frank's face in a hard punch. "You bastard!" Harm was about to give him another punch to the face when he felt cold metal pushed against the back of his neck and heard the click of a firearm.

"Let him go, Commander." Harm didn't recognize the voice. It was calm, smooth, collected. He reluctantly released Frank. "Back up." Harm stepped slowly backward away from Frank, the cold gun barrel still against his neck.

"Where's Colonel MacKenzie?" Harm asked the voice behind him, still facing Frank, who wiped a small trickle of blood off his bottom lip.

"You'll see her soon, Commander," the voice replied. "But first, we need to talk business."

"I want to see her _now_," Harm demanded. He felt the gun's muzzle press harder into his neck and heard the trigger being cocked.

"I'm in charge here, Commander." The man behind him leaned closer, nearly breathing in Harm's ear. "Now, if you want to keep Sarah alive, I suggest you start doing as I say. You see, I've got someone watching Sarah right now. All I've got to do is give him the word and she's dead."

"You touch one hair on her head, and I'll-"

"Commander, I don't think you heard me!" The man behind Harm was angry now. He spun Harm around to face him. Still training his gun on him, he opened his cell phone and dialed a number. Harm breathed heavily as he watched the man on the phone. "Harley," The man looked Harm in the eye with a sinister smile. "Shoot her."

"NO!" Harm's eyes were wide. The man smiled.

"Just kidding, Fred. Put her on."

The man handed the cell phone to Harm. "Here's some motivation to do what I need you to do," he said, re-aiming his gun at Harm, who took the cell phone and pressed it to his ear. Harm could hear heavy breathing on the other line.

"Mac?" he whispered, anticipating and fearing her response.

"H-H-Harm?" Her voice was shaky and she coughed lightly after saying his name.

"Mac, are you hurt?" Harm asked, infuriated.

"I'm OK." It was only a partial lie. She knew she could have been worse. Realizing this was her only chance to save Harm from certain death, she pleaded with him, "Harm, don't do what they want. They killed Tanner. They set Isaac up. Phillips too. Harm, don't-"

Harm heard her cry out in pain as she was slapped in the face. He gripped the cellphone tightly, his knuckles white and his anger boiling inside him. "You son of a bitch, don't you touch her!" he screamed into the phone. "Mac? Mac, talk to me! MAC?"

The man with the gun in front of Harm took the cell phone back and snapped it shut with a grin. "You see, Commander," he said, smirking, "what we want is simple. Ten million dollars, cash, unmarked hundred-dollar bills. You deliver the money, we let her go. Simple." The man crossed away from Harm, who watched him walk toward Sgt. Phillips and the others. "If we don't get what we want, there's going to be a lot of blood shed." He turned to Harm. "Besides, I have a feeling that the military intelligence we were able to obtain through Commander Tanner's secured access card will serve as a nice piece of insurance in getting our funds." The man held up the security pass, then slipped it back in his pocket.

"Larry, that wasn't part of the agreement."

Harm turned to Frank, who walked toward the man, named Larry, in protest. Looking at Larry, Harm began to connect the dots. _Mac's message said Captain Strickland called her. Strickland. Bud. The phone number. Larry Strickland. Killed Tanner. Brooklyn. Drugs. Harley. Fred. Planted to gain intelligence. To set up Isaac. Check on Rebecca. Gary Boone. _Harm's eyes narrowed as he figured out the connection. "Why did you kill Tanner?" he asked, taking a step forward toward Strickland.

"It was Commander Tanner's fault, really," Strickland replied. "He was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Did he witness a deal?" Harm challenged.

"Something like that." Strickland crossed toward Harm.

"How did you set up Lieutenant Isaac as the scapegoat? Did Frank help you with that?"

"See, that's the very intriguing part, Commander," Strickland said, amused. "Frank was called down to help clean up the mess Commander Tanner made. But," Strickland turned and walked over to the group huddled on the ground. "I had a friend on the inside." He smiled and pointed his gun at Rebecca, lifting her chin up with the muzzle to force her to look at him. She sniffled, turning her head away as Strickland laughed.

Sgt. Phillips gasped in shock. "No!"

"Becky ..." Lt. Isaac breathed, staring at her in disbelief. She grabbed his hand, but Lt. Isaac pulled away.

"He made me!" she protested while sobbing. "I-I came to tell you everything this afternoon. But I couldn't get in!" She turned to Sgt. Phillips, whose face hardened toward her. "Uncle Marc, he said he'd kill you if I didn't help him!" She turned back to Lt. Isaac. "I-I didn't know what he was planning on doing. Please Chris, you've got to believe me!"

Lt. Isaac hesitated, then put his arms around Rebecca as she sobbed. "I believe you, Becky," he murmured in her ear, holding her as she cried.

_That's why she had Strickland's number on her desk, _Harm thought.

"Of course, Frank failed to take care of this mess by himself," Strickland continued. "So, I was sent to finish the job." He turned to Harm again. "You know, Colonel MacKenzie really is very trusting, Commander. She believed my phone call of Lieutenant Isaac's escape and everything." He stared at Harm, who glared back at him. "And she contacted you immediately afterwards, just like I anticipated. Of course, she was more than willing to cooperate to get the Lieutenant's release ... once she was convinced you were in danger. She resisted at first, but I think I was pretty successful in breaking her."

Harm thought of how Mac must have been worried for his safety, willingly putting herself in danger to protect him. The thought alone made his anger rise uncontrollably, never mind the fact that he felt powerless to help her now that she was in danger. His hands tightened into a fit, ready to charge at Strickland.

"Commander," Strickland chided, "it won't help you to lose your temper at me. After all, I'm the one with the gun." He pointed his gun toward the three people on the floor.

Sgt. Phillips looked up at Frank. "How could you, Frank?" he asked softly. "Why would you do this?" Frank met Sgt. Phillips' eyes and then looked at Strickland.

"Larry, this wasn't part of the deal," he said softly, looking at Sgt. Phillips and Rebecca. "Let them go."

"Frank," Strickland said, shaking his head, "they all know entirely too much. Besides, Mr. Boone knew you wouldn't do it. So someone has to."

"But Larry-"

"Frank." Strickland crossed to him and grabbed his shoulder. "Don't make me add you to the list."

"If it's money you want, you can have it." Harm took a step closer to Strickland. "But I want to see Colonel MacKenzie immediately. And I want her safely returned before you get anything."

Lt. Isaac looked up at Harm. "Sir, you can't negotiate with him! The United States doesn't negotiate with terrorists!"

Harm shot a look down at Lt. Isaac. Enraged at the memory of Mac's strained voice and her cries as she was beaten, he looked back toward Strickland. "Give me a way to get the money together."

"Good, I'm glad you see things my way, Commander."

Clayton Webb was enjoying this cocktail party. Expensive champagne, beautiful women and even possibly a way to move up the ladder in the world of the CIA. Nothing was going to interrupt this night. Not even a phone-

He sighed deeply as he heard his cell phone ring. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. "Oh great, now what?" He sighed deeply. "This is Webb."

"Webb, it's Harm. I need you to do what I say."

2304 Zulu

Admiral Chegwidden paced in his office as Webb relayed the message to the Secretary of State over the Admiral's speakerphone. "Sir, this is Larry Strickland ... if we're able to secure Strickland, we can possibly take down Boone. Strickland is his best associate. He obvious feels threatened if he's sending Strickland to clean something up. We've got to move on this NOW."

"Agent Webb, I'm well aware of what can be done, but the United States does not negotiate-"

"Mister Secretary," Admiral Chegwidden said loudly, trying to control his anger. "Two of my officers, plus three civilians are in danger. One is being held for ransom. Another Coast Guard Commander was killed by these men." His voice increased in volume, matching his rising anger level. "Frankly, I don't give a damn what we've got to do to get them back, but we're gonna do it!"

"AJ, hear me out-"

"No, Mister Secretary, you hear me. My officers are in there. FIND A WAY." Admiral Chegwidden punched the button to hang up on the line. He shut his eyes tightly and rubbed his temples. "Webb, how fast can you get a team in place?"

"They can be ready in two hours."

"Do it."

After hanging up with Webb the second time, Harm handed the phone back to Strickland. "It's done. They'll have the money ready tomorrow at twelve-hundred hours."

Strickland smiled. "Perfect. Be in the Washington Mall. I want the bills in a black duffel bag. No tricks. I'll contact you before the trade." He punched Harm's cell phone number on his keypad, pressed save and smiled, clicking his phone shut. His eyes narrowed at Harm. "Come alone. Anything funny and she dies."

Strickland looked toward Frank and gestured at the front door. "Get in the car," he ordered. Frank slipped past Harm and the others, leaving he building. Harm followed as Strickland began to leave as well.

"I want to talk to her!" Harm demanded. Strickland turned and laughed.

"You will, Commander. Noon, tomorrow. Remember what I said."

Harm watched helplessly as Strickland and Frank drove off into the night. Behind him, Sgt. Phillips, Rebecca and Lt. Isaac all stood, shaken from the night's events. Harm turned toward them. "Get her home safely, and don't leave her side," he ordered Lt. Isaac, who nodded and took Rebecca's hand. He looked at Sgt. Phillips. "I've got someone from the CIA working on this. He'll probably get a team in the area within the next hour or so."

Sgt. Phillips nodded. "Then we'd better get started on a game plan."


	8. Chapter 8

April 25, 2002  
0850 hours  
The Fairwinds

The hot shower water rolled down Harm's face, stinging his cuts and scrapes as he ran his fingers through his hair. He had been at the station until zero six-hundred with Sgt. Phillips, the officers (who the Sergeant assembled after Strickland left) and the team Webb assembled that had arrived an hour and a half later. When he had first arrived back in the Greenwich, he spent nearly twenty minutes staring at his own reflection in the mirror above the bureau. His mind, body and energy were drained from the helplessness he felt toward getting Mac back safely. Snapping out of his reverie, he wandered over to the bed they had shared the night before, contemplating sleep to attempt to recharge himself. His fingers ran gingerly over the area where Mac had slept, tracing a rough outline of how he remembered her sleeping the night before. He came back to the room to catch some Z's, but found it impossible to attempt sleep knowing Mac was being held hostage somewhere by known killers and con men. Figuring a shower would help revive him instead of sleep, he let the hot water run over his body as he closed his eyes and prayed a silent prayer for Mac's well-being.

After soaking in the hot shower, Harm toweled himself off absentmindedly, trying to piece any information he could on Mac's whereabouts. It was a brief conversation, but he distinctly remembered hearing something else other than Mac's plea to not settle with Strickland.

_Waves._

As he dressed, Harm strained to remember the sounds from the conversation, attempting to locate where Mac was. He knew heard the ocean clearly - so much so that it sounded close by. He knew she was right near the shoreline. Where, he had no clue, but it sounded close. In fact, it sounded like they were on the beach itself. There was also a loud, tinny echo when Mac cried out. He thought it might have been his anger emphasizing her pain. But as he replayed the conversation in his mind for the millionth time, he realized now that there was, indeed, an echo. _An echo on the beach?_

Harm pulled out his cellphone and dialed Webb's number; he had flown in to join his team on taking down Strickland. "Webb," the agent answered.

"Is Sergeant Phillips there?"

"Yeah, hold on." Webb handed the phone to Sgt. Phillips. "What is it, Commander? Everything alright?"

"I've been replaying the conversation I had with Mac over and over in my head," Harm said, pacing the short length of floor at the foot of the bed. "I remember hearing waves very distinctly."

"Congratulations, Harm," Webb remarked sarcastically; Harm was unaware he was now on speakerphone. "There's only countless miles of shoreline within a fifty mile radius!"

"What about ones with buildings that echo?" Harm asked.

Both Webb and Sgt. Phillips looked at each other. "Well," Sgt. Phillips replied, "there's the old World War Two artillery bunker at the Point."

"An artillery bunker?" Harm's voice had a small glimmer of hope in it.

"Yeah, about three, four miles from here."

"Sergeant, I think that's where Colonel MacKenzie is being held."

"Now wait a minute, Harm," Webb said, not fully convinced. "We can't just go and send the team down there - we've got to take our places at the Mall for the op!"

"Sergeant," Harm said, "is the beach public where the bunker is?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Have your men clear the beach and secure it from the public until further notice. Webb, I'll contact NCIS and tell them to stand by with sweeping the bunker until we see if Strickland will deal. Your men will stay in position at the Mall."

"Harm ..." Webb's voice sounded unsure. "... If we send a team in and Mac is in there ..."

"No one is going in," Harm said, hating the fact that they had to wait to see if he was right about his instinct. "We'll have them move in once we're in position at the Mall."

"Alright, Commander," Sgt. Phillips said with a nod.

Harm ended the call with Webb and Sgt. Phillips, then punched Bud's line on his speed dial.

_"Lieutenant Rob-"_

"Bud, I need you to get me everything you can on a World War Two artillery bunker located in Cape May Point. I want to know everything - I want blueprints, dimensions, entrances, exits - you name it, I want it. Also, I want satellite feed of any other structures on the shoreline in the area. Buildings, caves, trenches, anything you find." Harm's voice was rough and filled with emotion. "Fax everything you can to the West Cape May Police Station ASAP."

"Yes-" Bud didn't even have time to finish replying when he heard the phone line disconnect. "... Sir."

Figuring sleep was a waste of precious time, Harm grabbed his cover off the bureau and headed downstairs. He could smell the aroma of another home-cooked breakfast wafting in from the dining room. Too upset to eat, he breezed past the room, but quickly turned on his heel and returned when he only saw Ed and Lydia at the table.

"Where's Josephine, Seaman?" he demanded, his voice more gruff than the day before. Ed shot up from his seat and stood at attention with less finesse than a younger man would have.

"Sir ..." Ed paused when he realized he didn't have the answer. "... I don't know. Sir."

"Frank and Josephine checked out early last night," Marie said, entering the room with a pot of coffee in hand. "Well, actually only Josephine did. They were booked to stay until tomorrow, but they had an emergency. So, the left early."

Harm nodded toward both Ed and Marie, then flew out the front door. All three pairs of eyes watched him, curious as to the reason behind Harm's drastic change of behavior.

"Yep," Ed said, lowering back down to his seat. "That's why you never get involved with a fellow officer under the same command. Especially one from the Core." Ed jumped as Lydia gave him a well-practiced elbow to the side.

1142 hours  
Washington Mall

The outdoor stretch of bricked walkway that ran in front of several small specialty shops was crowded with all types of people. The live music, positioned in the center of the Mall, filled the air with cheerful beats and applause. Tourists and locals alike mingled through the courtyard area, admiring the bright shades of red, pink, yellow and purple from the newly bloomed clusters of tulips and daffodils in the square garden boxes that graced the center of the large walking area. Next to them were bright white park benches, paired together facing opposite directions. He sat at one of them, observing the people that were around him from behind his black aviators.

_"Testing, testing - __Batman__, do you copy?"_ Webb's voice echoed in Harm's ears.

"Roger that, Robin." Harm said gently. From the outside, it didn't even look like Harm had an earpiece in. In order to make sure it was still invisible, Harm ran his hand through his hair, his pinkie finger brushing his left ear. _Still good._ The fingers on his right hand flexed open and closed around the black duffel back handle he held. Inside rested ten million dollars in unmarked hundred-dollar bills. It was real - Harm had argued during the night with Webb to make sure the money was legitimate. What he was trading it for was far too important to risk it. Eventually, he won the argument, despite Webb's protests.

_"Batman, we've got our men in position."_

"Copy that. Do not act until I give the signal. I repeat, _do not act_ until I give the signal."

_"Copy that. Hey Harm, for God sake, don't get yourself killed."_

Harm sighed. "Batman, over and out."

He wasn't sure if it was the exhaustion from the lack of sleep from the night prior, the drug he was forced by Strickland or a combination of both that made him choose their call signs. Of course, Webb was less than pleased to be referred to as a sidekick in tights, but it made Harm smile as much as one could under the circumstances, so he let it go. The last time Webb had seen Harm so devastated as he was now was shortly after Mac announced her engagement to Mic Brumby ...

_::flashback::_

_She and him were both in her office, laughing and smiling over something. Webb had observed them through Mac's open office blinds as he headed toward the Admiral's office. He then saw Brumby enter Mac's office, taking Mac's hand and smiling. Mic kissed her cheek, taking her possessively into his arms. He remembered distinctly the look in Harm's eyes as his world crumbled into tiny, little pieces ..._

Harm checked his watch for the fifth time in the last minute. He silently willed the minute hand of all clocks and watches to move forward through the remaining fifteen minutes so Strickland would make his appearance. His hand flexed instinctively as he thought about Strickland. Harm hoped to God that Webb and his team were in place and ready when they needed to be. They had spent the entire night into the wee hours of the morning on the plan. As long as everyone was in place, it would go according to plan. At least, that's what he tried to convince himself. It was Webb's plan, after all. Harm wanted to fly solo, but Webb shot his plan down. He wasn't sure if Webb was more concerned about getting Mac back alive or taking down Strickland. He couldn't win, though and gave into Webb's plan. Harm rechecked his watch. In about fifteen minutes, Harm would have Mac safely with him again. He was practically itching with anticipation about coming face-to-face with Strickland again. However, his years of Military training washed through his system, reminding him that the emotions he were feeling could be dangerous - not just to himself, but to Mac. The last thing he wanted was to lose focus, because losing focus meant he could lose all together.

He breathed in deeply, committing to playing it cool as his cell phone rang. "Rabb."

_"You're early, Commander."_

"Well, I am Navy. Technically, I'm on time and you're late."

_"Funny. Glad to see you have your sense of humor back, well, after such a late night you had."_

"Why don't we talk in person, Strickland?" Harm peered around him slowly, not catching any glimpses of him nearby.

_"Why don't I make the decisions, Commander? After all, I'm sure you'd rather trade for a live Sarah versus a dead one, right?"_

"I've got what you want," Harm said, clenching his jaw. "So let her go."

_"I'll make sure of that soon enough."_

The line went dead. Harm looked around without trying to seem suspicious. "Robin. Joker has a visual on me. Search the area. He's within the perimeter."

_"Roger that."_

Harm swallowed, his hand gripping the duffel bag with intensity. He couldn't tell if it was the circumstances he was under, or if it truly was happening - but he felt eyes on him, watching him, waiting for him to mess up so that Mac would-

"Mac."

Harm's lips parted as he whispered her name. He saw her slowly step into the Mall with another group of people, her eyes shifting around, scanning the crowd she was in. She was searching for him. He took off his aviators and stuffed them in his pocket, standing with the duffel bag in hand. As he stood, he saw Mac's eyes catch his movement, resting on him. The look in her eyes made Harm's heart stop and his stomach sink. He wasn't sure if he ever saw her filled with such fear and terror before. There was something about the look in her eyes, though, that said she wasn't afraid for herself - rather, she was afraid for him. His mouth felt dry like cotton as his feet automatically carried him toward her. She was moving toward him too; her denim jacket was buttoned tightly around her. As he got closer to her, he began to see the extent of her captivity. Her clothes were dirty. Her face was swollen in places, a small streak of dirt above her eyebrow partially concealed by her bangs. Her bottom lip was swollen, sporting a small cut. From everyone else's point of view, Mac would seem relatively normal. But Harm studied her face with intensity, observing every small change that occurred from the last time he saw her yesterday afternoon until this very moment.

He was no more than six feet in front of her now. "Mac ..." he whispered again, moving closer to her, reaching for her arm with his free hand. Her eyes were wide as she took a step backwards away from his advance. He stopped, confused.

"Harm."

She was there in body, but Mac's spirit was thousands of miles away somewhere, maybe at Red Rock Canyon he thought, where she felt safe. He searched her eyes. "Mac, are you OK?"

Her lips parted, the absence still in her eyes. She sympathetically scanned the scar on his forehead and took mental note of the light purple shadow under his right eye. She looked down at the duffel bag, swallowing hard. "Harm ... please tell me it's not real."

"I can't risk you like that," he replied, knowing she was referring to the money.

"Harm ... you can't do this."

"I can't _not_ do this, Mac."

"You can't-"

"Mac." Harm again tried to approach her, but she took another step backwards. Only this time, it was into a small child who was running in and out of the crowd. Startled, she looked down at the little girl and watched her as she continued to run along the Mall walkway. She whipped her head back when she saw Harm approach her again out of the corner of her eye.

"Get away, Harm," she whispered. He saw her tremble and his heart ached for her.

"Mac, it's OK-" He took another step forward.

"HARM. NO." Her voice was solid, full of warning. He froze in his place.

Harm's cell phone rang. He breathed heavily as he searched Mac's eyes for an answer. After two rings, Harm dug into his pocket and answered the phone. "Rabb," he said impatiently, his eyes glued on Mac.

_"Commander Rabb, I'm disappointed in you."_

"Where are you, Strickland?"

_"See ..."_ Harm could hear pacing; he heard a hand connecting angrily with a wall. _"... We had a deal, Commander. Remember?"_

"I'm here, Strickland - I'm keeping my end."

_"No, Commander. No tricks, remember?"_

Harm heard the sound of a silencer shot and the quick cry of someone's death. He scanned the area quickly; no one had heard the shot - the music had drown it out from existence.

"I've got what you want, now come and get it!" Harm yelled in the phone. His eyes continued to search the crowd for Strickland, noticing that the people milling about in the Mall were oblivious to his panicked situation.

_"It's a shame that Agent ... let's see ... Torres ... had to die like that, Commander. It could've been prevented, if only you followed the rules."_

"Don't shoot anyone else. I've got your money. Now take it and go."

_"You lied to me, Commander. I don't appreciate people lying to me."_ Harm heard more pacing. _"Well, no matter. I was prepared for your deception anyway."_

"What are you talking about?"

_"Why don't you ask Sarah?"_

Harm's eyes fell on Mac, large and filled with fear. Her eyes met his, filled with an equal amount of terror. As he and Mac stood in the middle of the Mall, people all around them laughing and smiling, the happy hum of the music nearby, Harm swallowed deep and looked to Mac, silently pleaded with her for an explanation.

"Mac?" Harm whispered, knowing she could hear him above the festival, which became like white noise to them both. It was as if no one else was there but she and him. He saw her swallow and momentarily grip her bottom lip with her teeth as it trembled. His heart ached for her and he again stepped toward her, still gripping the duffel bag. This time, though, she didn't move. He dropped the duffel bag and reached out toward her, taking her hand in his. Her skin was cold, but it was soft - just as it had always been. She shuddered at his touch, not really gripping his hand in return. Her eyes were wild, searching his in pain. She was trying to telegraph something to him with them, but he failed at decoding the message. "Sarah," he breathed, his heart racing in fear of the unknown.

Mac's next actions seemed innocent to other bystanders, if there were any. She slipped her hand out of his reluctantly, her fingertips tracing his palm as she retracted from him. Slowly, she began to unbutton her denim jacket, which had been completely closed until this point. One by one, Harm watched as each button revealed a few inches of Mac's cornflower blue sweater. His eyes studied hers intensely as she reached the last button. She never broke eye contact with his face as she took each side of her jacket in her hands and spread it open, just enough for him to see inside.

Harm's lips parted in disbelief as he stared at Mac's sweater-covered waist. Strapped to her curves like a poorly chosen accessory, a belt laced with explosives, wires and a key pad detonator blinked furiously at him.

1201 hours

Harm took a careful step forward toward Mac, whose breathing quickened. He touched her arm gently. Coming back to life, he realized he was still holding his cell phone to his ear, Strickland on the other end.

_"You see, Commander, I don't like when people lie to me. I don't like to be deceived."_

"You son of a—"

_"You have a choice, Commander. In my hand, I hold the remote connected to the explosives on Sarah. Sarah's belt is just a little insurance so that you don't try any more tricks. Option one: There's enough firepower wired through the Mall in hidden locations to level it. If you choose to save Sarah, I blow the Mall and everyone in it. Option two: If you choose to save the people, Sarah takes the money and leaves with me. You're the lawyer, Commander, so I'm going to let you make the ethical decision and choose who should be saved. However ... any tricks, and I pull the switch on Sarah."_

"You're a dead man, Strickland." Mac shuddered at the darkness in Harm's voice.

_"Decide, Commander. You have two minutes. After that, I start killing people on the street."_

Harm slowly clicked his phone shut; his eyes wandered to Mac, who slowly buttoned her jacket back up. He scanned the perimeter, realizing that he was trapped. It could be the biggest bluff, or it could be true. If it was a bluff, he'd be giving Mac away to save people who didn't need saving. But if it wasn't a bluff, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people would die. He ran his hand through his hair. This wasn't part of the plan. He assumed somewhere last night in between exhaustion and anger, he had forgot to prepare for the inevitable curve ball. He was up to bat without practicing for it. He was about to strike out either way.

He grabbed the duffel and bridged the distance between them, dropping the bag by his feet to take her hands into his. She jumped at his touch. He squeezed her hands, rubbing the tops of them with his thumbs. "Mac ..." His voice cracked slightly under the tension.

She lightly gripped his hands in response, searching his face. "Harm, give me the bag," she whispered, knowing Strickland had enacted his Plan B due to Harm's failure to come to the meeting alone and without police involvement. He shook his head furiously. "Harm, please!" she said, just short of begging him.

"I can't ..." He looked down, then up at her. "... He'll kill you."

"Harm-"

_"Rabb, where are you? Do you copy?" _

Harm released one of his hands from Mac's and touched his left ear. "Webb, he shot Torres. Get a team to move in on the south side corridor above the intersection, where Torres was. Strickland said he's wired the Mall with explosives. We need an evac team in here ASAP! "

_"Rabb, does he have the money?"_

"Negative."

"Rabb-"

"Just DO IT, WEBB!" Harm released his finger from his ear, ending his way of communication to Webb and the team he was with in a van around the corner. He looked to Mac. "Is it a bluff?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't know," was her soft reply. "But we can't risk it."

"I won't give you away to be killed, Sarah!" His voice was filled with sorrow and anger. Her eyes welled up with tears; a single salty drop ran down her cheek. He lifted his hand to her face and tenderly stroked the tear away from her skin. Instinctively, she pressed her cheek into his hand, feeling the callouses of skin on his palm and fingertips against her face. Another tear escaped when she realized he only called her Sarah when he truly feared for her.

"Harm," she begged, "give me the bag!"

"I can't make that decision!" His voice was strained with emotion.

"Then I will make the decision for you," she whispered, scanning his face. As she began to reach down for the duffel, Harm grabbed her wrist gently, but firmly.

"No!" he gasped, bringing her hand up.

"Harm ..." Her voice was beyond begging now. "I'll be fine." Slowly and gently, she pulled her wrist out of his lose grasp. She lifted her hand to his cheek. "You only have sixty seconds left to decide," she said softly, cupping his face with her hand.

His mind raced through every possibility until he discovered he was completely trapped. Suddenly, though, his aviator spirit of courage rushed over his body like a wave of heat. Push had come to shove, and he was ready to shove back. His hand reached up to Mac's, trapping it against his face; his other arm slid around her back, holding her closer to him, minding the sensitive belt resting on her hips. He ran his hand through her hair, letting his fingers feel the silken strands fully as he held her around her waist. His hand came to rest on the back of her neck - he could feel goosebumps form under his touch. He drew her head close to his face, inhaling her scent deeply. His emotions were running so high that he barely noticed himself cupping her face and placing butterfly kisses on her head, then down to her cheek, neck and shoulder. He lifted his head after running his lips along the curve of her, meeting her eyes with his. Her pupils were so dilated, her eyes looked black as night.

That's when his emotions took a 10G spin - he stooped his head down, moistened his lips and brushed them against hers, first tenderly, then with a raw passion that made her heart stop beating. She accepted his passionate kiss, a soft moan resonating favorably in her throat. His kiss was tender, but full of life and longing; she sensed hunger behind it, as well as fear.

She was the first to break away, her internal clock bringing her back to life and reminding her of the danger they were both in. He was mere inches from her face as he studied her; there was a confidence in his eyes that she hadn't seen in a while.

"I'll come for you," he whispered, his eyes focused on hers. Her chest tightened as she realized he made his decision with those words. He was going to gamble with her life. He didn't have a choice. She knew that.

"I'll be waiting," she breathed in response. She didn't know whether she could be angry with him or not. After all, she would have made the same decision, with the same belief that she would save him from danger. Besides, she would never let him actually make any other decision other than to save the people that surrounded them - she wouldn't have given him the option to decide anything else.

She gripped his hands, slowly pulling them away from her face. Reaching down, she took the handles of the duffel bag, keeping eye contact with him all the while. She could still see the courage in his eyes; she breathed in relief. _He will come for me,_ she whispered in her heart.

Harm watched as she slowly walked away from him, drifting into the sea of people around them and finally disappearing out of sight.


	9. Chapter 9

He felt like he could vomit as he watched her walk away. He realized what he had done. What she had done. What he allowed her to do. What she allowed him to do. He felt sick. He felt disgusting. He felt-

His phone rang violently in his pocket. Still staring toward the area where Mac disappeared into, he answered his phone with anger. "You're dead when I find you, you son of a bitch."

_"Following me would not be wise, Commander. I'm still holding the remote after all."_

"You got your goddamn money, now let her go!"

_"It's not that easy, Commander. You're the one who didn't follow the rules."_

"Why don't you come out here yourself, you bastard!" Harm was racing through the crowd now, looking everywhere he could to spot Strickland. He didn't see him. "STOP HIDING! Come out here!"

_"Commander, remember Agent Torres. I'd advise you to keep your temper under control before someone else dies. See that little girl over there? The one with the yellow dress?"_

Harm's eyes fell on the little girl, the same one Mac had bumped into. "You wouldn't," he breathed.

_"Follow me and she's next."_

His eyes watched the girl, who was yards in front of him, dancing to the live music. They then trailed upward to a third-floor window in a building above a pub, directly where the girl was under. His eyes grew wide when he saw Strickland purposefully step into view, then back into the shadows.

Harm heard the line go dead and slammed his phone shut. His mind was frantic. _"Harm! Harm!" _He heard Webb over the earpiece. _"Damnit, Rabb, answer me! What the hell is going on down there?"_

"He's got her, Webb!"

_"What the hell do you mean? You gave the goddamn money away?"_

"HE'S GOT MAC, WEBB!" Harm yelled. "She's wired with explosives!"

_"Oh my God ..."_

"Webb, get a team to the third floor above the pub. And clear this Mall ASAP! Get these people out of here, NOW!"

_"Harm, what are you going to do?"_

"I'm going to get Mac."

_"Rabb, my men aren't down there yet-" _Webb cursed Harm under his breath as he heard the other line go dead.

He flattened the SUV's gas pedal, weaving in and out of traffic. When the team Webb had sent to the third floor above the pub found no trace of Strickland, Harm had jumped in his car and headed west. Webb, of course, wasn't very happy that Harm had decided to take off without his team in place, but Harm knew he couldn't wait. Strickland was unpredictable; however, Harm knew he would take Mac to the bunker. He was sure of it. Using the information Bud had faxed over earlier that day, Harm drove frantically to the Point.

His cell phone's ring startled him. He answered it quickly, thinking it might be Strickland. "Rabb."

However, it was Webb. _"Harm, NCIS has cleared the Point. They took down two of Strickland's men and are going for the bunker."_

"NO! I've got to go in alone."

_"Like hell! I'm not letting you-"_

"Webb, pull NCIS back. I'm going in the bunker. ALONE. Tell them to cover the perimeter. Frank is still unaccounted for."

_"Damnit, Rabb! You're not doing this my way, are you?"_

"Not this time."

Harm snapped his phone shut and threw it on the passenger seat. All Harm had left was his instincts and he was now operating under them solely. He knew he was gambling, but what choice did he have? She had given him permission to gamble. She knew what was coming next. He thought about Mac's choice of words before she left him in the Mall as he drove. _I'll be waiting. _He let his mind wander a little to wonder if she meant she'd be waiting for him more than just now, at the bunker. Was there any deeper meaning like that to what she said? He didn't know, but he knew he had more than enough motivation to make sure this whole rescue went right. The possibility of a double-meaning in her last words to him just sealed the deal.

As he approached the shoreline, he saw the large concrete bunker from a distance that Bud had described to him over the phone and with the faxes he sent. He slowed his car to a stop, parking behind a line of trees. Carefully, he shut the vehicle off and exited the car. Checking his clip, Harm pulled the safety off the gun and held it up to his side as he crossed toward the artillery bunker. He recalled Bud's description from their phone conversation earlier that morning.

_"Sir, the north and east side entrances may be blocked, since that was where vehicles were taken in. There's another entrance on the north side through a ramp, but the ramp is half sunken into the sand. Your best bet would be the west corridor entry, marked by two large structures on the outside." _

Harm spotted the entry where Bud had referred to. He saw a few NCIS officers posted at different points around the bunker. One, a young man with clear green eyes approached him. "Commander, what are you-"

"I'm going in," Harm said. "It's me he really wants."

"Our orders are to-"

"Your orders are to STAND DOWN!" Harm said in a loud whisper. "This is my op, now out of my way."

Harm used his best impression of Admiral Chegwidden that he could muster to intimidate the officer. Clearly the one in charge, the officer hesitated, still looking at Harm. However, he slowly grabbed his radio with a frown. "Stand down. Commander Rabb is going in. Cover the entrances."

Harm pushed past the officer and began charging toward the bunker. Before reaching the entrance, Harm pulled out a small flashlight from his pocket and twisted it on. In his right hand was the firearm from the Sergeant as his left hand held the small beam of light. The bunker had been abandoned as a historical artifact; it was never meant to be a permanent structure, according to Bud's research. In fact, the last fifty-odd years saw the sandy area underneath it slowly eroded backwards until the ocean water took over completely. The structure still stood, however, despite the corrosion from the years of harsh pounding from the sea. Entering would prove to be slightly difficult, since the water was thigh deep near the west side, even on Harm's long frame.

After sloshing through the cold ocean water, Harm scaled the small entry ramp, shining his light in front of him. His shoes were wet and full of water; he tried to be as careful and quiet as possible, succeeding rather well. He scanned the corridor; it ran east to west along the south-side wall, which faced the ocean. He took note of entrances to the left before moving any further, mentally ticking off the room types in his head: _store room, air compressor, shell room, shell room, powder room_. He had studied the blueprints carefully that morning, committing the layout of the structure to memory.

He slowly made his way down the hall, checking each one before he moved to the next. He paused as he reached what he knew was the long hall that divided the east and west sides, connecting the bunker to the north side entrance, which Bud had said was blocked by large rocks and debris. He looked ahead, shining his light toward the remaining corridor he was traveling. He knew it was a mirror image pattern repeat of rooms on the east side, from where he was beginning with the powder room.

Harm stopped abruptly when he heard a muffled cry toward his left. It was distant; he knew the likelihood of it being in one of the smaller five rooms was slim. It was far too muffled for that. Mercifully, the concrete walls and ceiling that surrounded him bounced the sound waves loud enough that he could narrow down the source. _Room six, the generator room. _

He knew better than to ignore the same instincts that accurately brought him to the bunker, that heard the waves when he initially spoke to Mac, that ultimately knew the Phillips family had a hand in the death of Tanner and that Isaac was innocent. Mac's life depending on the same instinct now to save her life.

Mentally, he walked through the blueprints, remembering that the only entrance to the generator room, which contained three generators, was through the muffler gallery off the east side's second shell room. He remembered that there were walls dividing the generator room from the gallery, which would keep him hidden until he was ready to make his move.

Checking the rest of the east side rooms before he entered the shell room, he shined his flashlight all around him to ensure he was, in fact, alone. He had made sure NCIS and Webb's team was on the outside this time, stationed around the bunker as he went in. He wasn't going to risk it this time. He knew he had to go in for her alone.

Harm brushed a cobweb out of his face, the dirt that had collected itself on the floors of the bunker clinging on to his soaked uniform pants and military-issue shoes. He paused momentarily when he heard a voice and someone pacing coming from the generator room. Ducking against the wall, he killed his light before making his way down the gallery as he listened closely to the voice on the other side.

_"So, tell me Colonel ... how much is the security of the U.S. government worth? Your life?"_

Silence.

_"I was able to find some interesting information using Commander Tanner's security pass. Perhaps you could enlightened me to the details."_

_"I won't give you anything."_ Her voice was cold, firm.

_"I see. A United State Marine to the core ... no pun intended, Colonel." _Harm heard Strickland advance toward Mac; he heard her wince. _"Maybe you'd rather go about this the hard way, hmm?" _He heard a laugh. _"You certainly don't have very many options, Sarah." _Another laugh. _"You know, Fred was right - you do like to play rough, don't you?"_

He heard Mac spit, followed by the loud crack of his hand slapping her face. Harm's hand tightened around his gun, enraged.

_"Colonel, just a reminder ... I'm the one holding the switch to your new little accessory there."_

_"It wouldn't serve you to kill us both. You'd gain nothing." _

_"Oh this won't instantly kill you, Sarah. I'm not completely heartless. You'd have two minutes to escape before the whole thing collapses into the Atlantic." _Strickland laughed. _"That is, if you can get out of those ropes first."_

_"Still, you wouldn't gain anything from my death. After all, it's information you want, isn't it? So you can go back to report to Boone like a good little boy?" _Her voice was thick with sarcasm, meant for taunting. Harm had heard that tactic in the courtroom before. Mac had fleshed out the best truths from liars on the stand using her bulldog approach. Except, the people she used it on before didn't have the trigger to an explosives belt that was strapped to her. She was truly playing with fire.

Harm knew Strickland was enraged when he heard him slap Mac again. He took that moment to spring from his hiding place behind the wall, cocking and aiming his gun at Strickland. "Don't move!" he shouted; Strickland paused, his back to Harm. Harm moved slowly toward the right side of the room, still training his gun on Strickland, who clutched the controller in his right hand.

"You don't listen very well, do you Commander?" Strickland said, anger coloring his voice.

"I never was good at following directions," Harm said, his eyes glued on Strickland as he continued to move toward where Mac was tied to a large generator.

"Uh-uh, Commander." Strickland held up the remote, shaking it in disapproval; even with his back facing him, Harm could see his thumb hovering over a large circular button. "You don't want to do that." Strickland turned, revealing his own gun in his left hand, pointed at Mac's head. He cocked the trigger and smiled. "You see, since you can't seem to do what I ask you, now it's time to pay the piper."

Mac watched Harm breathlessly, trying to calculate his next move. Harm took a step closer to Strickland as a challenge. She swallowed as he played chicken with Strickland, then winced as her assailant pushed the gun forcefully into the side of her head.

"Really, Commander, I'm not one to play games."

Harm froze. "Let her go."

"Why should I?"

"It's information you want, isn't it?"

"Are you, then, going to tell me what I want to know, Commander?"

"Are you going to let her go?"

Mac gasped. "Harm, don't do it!"

Strickland laughed. "So you'd sell Government secrets to me ... for a woman? Tisk, tisk ... Commander, I thought you were better than that."

"Let her go, then we can talk."

"Oh sure, Commander! You want to talk? Let's talk. Let's talk about how I made Sarah scream last night." Strickland smiled suggestively at Harm, whose body tensed. Harm lifted his gun higher, his eyes wild.

"Do we have a deal?" Harm demanded darkly.

"Hmm ... sure, why not ... Oops!"

Harm and Mac both gasped as Strickland pressed the trigger to the remote.

"Commander," Strickland said, "I thought I told you before ... _I don't like people lying to me!_" His gun was still pressed against Mac's head. "Looks like this is the end, Commander."

Harm's breath quickened. If Strickland was telling the truth, he had less than two minutes to get Mac out before the entire concrete bunker collapsed on top of them and into the ocean.

"No, it's the end for you."


	10. Chapter 10

Harm's and Mac's head both whipped toward the entry way, where they heard the voice come from. A nanosecond later, a gun shot rang. Strickland slumped to the ground at Mac's feet, clutching the remote, blood pouring from his head. Their eyes went wide as the saw Frank step through the entry into a patch of light, holding a smoking gun. Harm aimed his gun at Frank, but before he could react, Frank spoke.

"Josephine is innocent. She never knew anything about me."

Mac gasped as Frank pointed his gun at his own head and pulled the trigger. She watched the older man's body crash to the ground in horror. The last fifteen seconds had seen two deaths - and if they didn't hurry, soon there would be two more. Her eyes met Harm's as he turned to her. "Harm, we only have ninety-five seconds left!" she said without looking down at the timer on her waist.

After checking both Frank's and Strickland's pulses, Harm tucked his gun and the remote from Strickland's hand into his back waistband, rushing to untie Mac. She wiggled as he loosened the ropes, freeing herself after a little while of struggling. "Eighty seconds!" she gasped. Harm glanced down at the belt. Mac's jacket that had covered the belt before in the Mall was discarded on the floor next to her feet in a crumpled heap. He saw the belt clearly as it rested around Mac's hips on top of her blue sweater. There were wires running through the belt itself, as well as tangled on the outside. He whipped out his pocket knife and threw the blade open. "Seventy-two seconds!" she reminded, still watching him and not the belt's timer.

"When we get out of here," Harm said, frantically thinking about how to cut the belt without setting it off earlier than their less-than-seventy second deadline, "you're going to tell me how you do that!"

Mac breathed heavily, realizing Harm's dilemma with the internal wires. It was too tight to pull over without risking disconnecting the wires. She wasn't exactly sure how Strickland got it on her in the first place; she assumed it was during a period of unconsciousness. "Sixty-five seconds!"

Tossing his knife on the ground, Harm scooped Mac into his arms. He had an idea that he prayed would work. He carried her frantically through the gallery, knowing that it would be faster for him to take her outside that way than to try to explain what he needed her to do. She laced her arms around his neck as she held on to him while he ran quickly through the corridor, heading toward the west entrance he came through. The bright sunlight blinded them both as they exited the bunker. Harm slid down into the raging water, still carrying Mac to his chest. With all the strength he had in him, he forced his way through the water and onto the shoreline. Out of the corner of his eye, Harm could see the NCIS team, along with Webb and his men, gathered near the bunker, watching him run.

"Forty seconds!"

Mac's reminder boosted Harm's adrenaline and he charged toward a nearby group of jetties, squeezing Mac tightly as he ran. Her eyes widened as she saw where they were headed. _What are you doing?_ she thought as she panicked internally. For a moment in her mind, she saw him tossing her off the jetties, belt and all.

Harm's long legs, soaked and tired, scaled the jetties until they were as far as he could go. The waves and wind whipped angrily against the jetties, the salty water roaring up and crashing into the rocks, spraying them both with sea water. Harm set Mac down on her feet and turned to her. "Thirty seconds!" she said, meeting his eyes.

Harm looked down at her body, then quickly grabbed Mac's sweater roughly in both of his large hands, pulling at the fabric with feverish intensity, tearing the thin garment in two like the Hulk. Mac's mouth dropped open as he ripped the sweater completely off of her like a wild animal and tossed it aside, leaving her torso merely clad in a black satin bra.

As she watched him, she suddenly realized what he was doing. The belt hung loser on her than it had when she had the sweater still on her. Catching his eyes for a brief second, she raised her arms and Harm slowly and carefully tugged the belt upward over her stomach, his breathing quickened as he pulled it over her chest, then finally over her head and arms. Wriggling out of the belt, Mac shivered as a large wave crashed against the jetty they were standing on. "Nine seconds!" she yelled over the wind as she took the remote out of Harm's waistband, handing it to him.

Silently praying his quarterback days in high school would help him now, Harm pulled his right arm back, clutching the belt and remote. With a groan, he threw the pieces over the end of the jetties as forcefully as he could. Both Harm and Mac watched it as it flew in the air, traveling several yards and crashing into the water.

Spinning around, Harm grabbed Mac and pulled her toward his chest. Gripping her tightly, he threw himself back first on the jetties, then rolled over on top of Mac, cover her like a shield. His arms supported her bare back against the rough surface of the jetty, his chest and legs folding over on top of her to fully cover her. In the same moment that he rolled on top of her, they both heard a deafening explosion in the direction Harm threw the belt; they heard a rush of water soar up from the ocean high over the jetties. Harm braced himself on top of Mac, making sure she was fully shielded as the violent explosion of sea water, sand and rocks came crashing down onto the jetties. The water and ocean debris poured over top of them both, drenching and pounding forcefully on their bodies.

When the explosion was over, Mac could feel Harm's relieved sigh deep in his chest as he pressed against her. He was still embracing her with fierce intensity; however, she could feel his muscles begin to relax as he lifted himself off of her slightly. She met his eyes and examined him - he was soaked, salty water dripping off of his face. He had sand particles in his hair. He looked like he had just come out of the sea. She breathed in deeply and smiled, lifting her hand to pick out a piece of seaweed stuck in his hair. He sighed and laughed, his grin as wide as ever.

"You look like the Swamp Monster!" she teased, flicking the seaweed away.

He smiled. His face turned slightly more serious as he replied, "You look beautiful."

Her lips parted as she digested his words. His long body was still pressed closely against her, his hands gripping her back and shoulders from underneath as she laid on his arms. He drank in the sight of her - her face wet, her hair darkened by the ocean waves, her skin bare and soft. He saw her chest rise and fall as she breathed quickly; he felt the heat of her body rise and begin to warm him, perhaps in a way he wasn't sure if she would be prepared for.

Harm ignored what his instincts said about the situation they were in - he could so easily have kissed her, losing himself in the moment and in her sweet taste. Instead, he pulled her up with him as he stood, steadying her on her feet. Quickly, he unbuttoned his wet shirt and gave it to Mac, a look of apology for its condition on his face. He stood in his white tank and watched her in all her glory as she accepted the shirt and slipped it on, admiring her body, but more astonished with the woman she was inside. His eyes narrowed as he saw a flash of emotion cross her face - was it disappointment? - He would never know. _I guess that's what happens when you don't trust your instincts, _he thought sadly.

"I guess I owe you another one of these," Harm said after a moment of silence, picking up the tattered sweater.

Mac smiled. "You owe me a whole new outfit!"

He glanced down at her skirt; the delicate fabric had ripped and shredded - against the jetties, he assumed. He laughed, his signature smile making an appearance.

As they made their way back to the shoreline by carefully scaling the jetties downward, Harm stopped and peered down. Noticing he wasn't right behind her, Mac turned and saw him squatting, looking at something between the rocks. She moved next to him and peered down with him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I thought I saw a knobbed whelk down there ..." Harm turned to her and smiled brightly, laughing as she fought her own smile to look disgusted at him for teasing her. She playfully hit him on the arm and shook her head, getting back up and continuing down the jetties toward the sand, where the police, NCIS and CIA were now fully gathered.

April 29, 2002  
0943 hours  
JAG HQ  
Falls Church, Virgina

"... The FBI was able to obtain some valuable information in their pursuit to taking down Gary Boone, thanks to the men of his they were able to apprehend during your investigation." Admiral Chegwidden's voice was mostly informative, except for the slight hint of pride both Harm and Mac noticed silently as they sat for their follow-up briefing with the Admiral the Monday after their return. "Lieutenant Isaac is back to full duty. After last week's events, Isaac suggested a new patrol of the docks in Cape May for Boone's business, working in conjunction with the local authorities. His CO has recommended him as the officer in charge."

Even though he knew Frank had been part of things all along, Harm still felt concern for his unknowing wife. "Sir, what about Josephine McLean?"

"The FBI has entered Mrs. McLean into a witness protection program to ensure her safety, Commander," the Admiral replied.

"What about Rebecca Phillips, sir?" Mac asked. Harm turned to her and Mac met his eyes, questioning his reaction toward her question silently. Harm's eyebrows rose, remembering the particular shade of green Mac became when she first met Rebecca.

The Admiral paused, looking at the both of them. "Miss Phillips has actually been inspired toward a career change." Admiral Chegwidden smiled. "She's listed as entering the Cape May Police Academy as of this morning." Harm and Mac glanced at each other with a knowing grin. The Admiral smiled. "Hope you two got to enjoy the beach while you were at Cape May, because I know Lieutenant Roberts and Commander Sturgis are certainly ready to lighten their workloads. Dismissed."

The duo stood and about-faced. "Aye, aye, sir!"

Outside of the Admiral's office, Harm looked down at Mac as they walked through the bullpen to their offices, ready to tackle the mountains of paperwork that grew while they were away. Once they returned to JAG, the Admiral had sent them both to Bethesda to get checked out at the hospital, giving them the remainder of the week off to rest. Though Harm had seen Mac almost every night since then and even once for lunch on that Friday, he still asked, "So, how was your weekend, Mac?"

"You mean, how was my Saturday night? You saw me on Sunday!" Mac smiled up at him, realizing what Harm was trying to do.

"Well, that too," he replied with a grin.

"It was nice," she answered, stepping into her office.

"Do anything special?" Harm leaned against the door frame to her office, continuing to play dumb - he didn't want Mac to know he had been spying on her through office scuttlebutt and heard about her dinner with James Kennedy that was scheduled for that night.

Mac's mouth opened a little at his boldness. She knew he knew, but he wasn't backing down. "I had dinner at Montclair's," she said softly.

"Well, well, well ..." Harm crossed his arms over his chest playfully. "You failed to share that during our run on Sunday. That's not the kind of place you go to alone. Must have been a date."

She was still surprised at his courage for the line of questioning he used. "More like ... a business meeting."

"A business meeting?" He took a step closer to her, now fully in her office. "What kind of business was it? Informational ... or transactional?" His voice was teasing and suggestive, true Harmon Rabb Jr. fashion.

Her smile grew wider, a slight blush creeping up on her cheeks. "Both, I guess." She took a couple steps and stood behind her desk, focusing on the surface of it instead of Harm's suggestive look that she could feel on her.

"You guess?" His eyebrow raised. "Shouldn't you know which it was?" His voice was low. He was having far too much fun with this.

"OK ..." Mac said with a smile. "It was transactional. But NOT-" She poked him to emphasize her argument. "-in the way you think!"

"How do you know what I'm thinking, Mac?" he challenged, his tone changing slightly at the thought of what he really meant. Once again, they were drifting into the murky waters somewhere between friendly teasing and deep, hidden emotions that were begging to come to the surface.

She searched his eyes, momentarily being transported back to points of time from their last case together. Just now, his eyes looked as intense as they did before he kissed her in the Mall and just as deep as they had when they were on the jetty before he turned into a complete gentleman and didn't take advantage of the situation, like most men would have.

They didn't speak of what had happened between them in the Mall that day after their return to Washington. It was something that became neatly tucked away in a compartment of their friendship somewhere, adding to the clutter of confusion that already existed between them. It wasn't until moments like this that they realized, sooner or later, the little pieces of emotions they kept locked away would eventual surface and have to be dealt with.

Just not today.

"I got you something," she said, breaking the intense silence and ignoring his question.

He wasn't expecting that. His eyebrow raised as she handed him an envelope. "What's this for?"

"Well, first it was a 'Let's Be Friends Again' gift ..." She paused, with thought. "But then, it became a 'Thank You' gift."

"A 'Thank You' gift?" he inquired, confused.

She smiled. "For coming for me."

His eyes widened; the memory of when he initially made that promise, plus what had happened before it, flooded into his mind. Quickly needing a way to distract himself, he opened the envelope, keeping his eyes on Mac until he withdrew a piece of paper. He unfolded it slowly, reading what she had written on it:

_**PW-985 YT Fuel Injection System  
555-0912**_

Harm's mouth opened, surprised to read what he just did. "Mac ..." He was grinning with delight. "How did you know?"

She beamed with joy - he was happy. "I heard you in your office a couple weeks ago trying to locate one for 'Sarah' ... I know it hasn't been the same since you replaced it with that other system after the Appalachians." She paused, shrugging. "I know a guy from Dalton's firm ... James Kennedy ..." His eyes quickly shot up from the piece of paper to gaze into her's at the mention of the name. "... Anyway, I knew he knew someone who could help."

"How did you know he knew?" Harm asked in his true inquisitive nature.

"I ... had talked about you to Dalton and the others. A lot." She felt his gaze at her intensify at her statement. "If you, um, call the number, the guy is holding it for you."

"Mac ..." Harm shook his head slightly, looking away. "You didn't have to do this."

"I know," she said softly. "I wanted to."

Harm was relieved. She wasn't dating James Kennedy. She had been trying to secure this surprise - for him. _She's not dating him. She IS waiting._ Harm smiled at the thought and inhaled, as if he were drawing in courage rather than oxygen, then moved close to Mac, stroking her cheek gently with his fingertips. "Thank you," he whispered. Her heart jumped as his tender gesture, racing with excitement at the possibilities the moment held. She could swear that his head was dipping, just as it had in the Mall before he-

"Excuse me, uh, Sir, uh, Ma'am ..."

The two jumped at the interruption from P.O. Tiner. Harm silently cursed him in his head, furious at the moment being completely ruined.

Tiner was visibly nervous that he had interrupted them - and perhaps saw a little more than he should have seen. "The, uh Admiral wants to, um, see you both about an investigation that just came in."

Eyebrows raised, they gave each other a knowing look. "We'll be right there," Harm said to Tiner, who nodded quickly and scurried out of Mac's office.

Harm turned back to Mac. "Remind me to shut the door next time," he said with a smile.

She laughed; to Harm, it sounded like beautiful music. Mac walked by Harm as he stepped aside for her exit. In a true moment of deja vu, she stopped as she brushed his shoulder. They searched each other's eyes as they had days before, the same intensity filling the room like an invisible cloud. Only this time, she smiled brilliantly, a blush creeping on to her cheeks as she finally stepped past him.

"Hey Mac," he called to her as she stepped through the threshold. "So how do you do that time thing of yours?"

Her smile made him weak in the knees. "I guess I've got good instincts."

Harm watched her walk away, this time with his own wide smile. _Maybe I should trust my instincts more often, _he thought.

fin.


End file.
